


At a Loss

by singedbylife



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singedbylife/pseuds/singedbylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A loss can bring out the best and the worst in you. </p><p>This story takes place 5-6 years after Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the series ended. </p><p>Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

Part 1

 

“There you are. I’ve missed you.”

 

He closes the door behind him with a small smile on his face. The room is quiet. It is early summer and the days are steadily getting longer. But although it is still light outside, no sunlight enters this room and the white walls and the sparse furniture are bathed in grey dimness. Still, the body on the bed manages to shine almost as if lit by moonlight.

 

Eyes lock as clothes are being discarded. Trousers are carefully, but quickly folded and placed on a hanger. The rest of the clothes are carried out into the bathroom, and placed in the laundry basket.

 

As he re-enters the bedroom, lungs fill with deep breaths of air, unneeded and needed. Blood pumps into his heavy cock, fills it and raises it. The throbbing sensation gives him a sense of vibrant youth.

 

The mattress dips slightly as he sits down next to Spike.

 

The stunning, preternatural being is lying naked before him, already panting slightly in anticipation. He is all ready for him. He strokes Spike’s arm fondly.

 

A plug is inserted into that wonderful, smooth entrance and he knows that all he has to do is pull it out and Spike will be open for him. It is a heady thought.

 

He knows too, that Spike is slicked thoroughly. The vampire is always ready for sex when he comes home after work. Knowing that entails a sense of delicious naughtiness. It is quite a turn-on. It is also rather nice not to have to spend time on rimming and loosening and preparing after a long day of difficult and tiresome work. Of course, foreplay with Spike is hardly an unwelcome task.

 

He moves his hand and slides it over the leg nearest to him. It is beautiful. Strong and slender. Cool muscles quiver at his touch, and the sight makes him feel even more aroused. His heart rate accelerates.

 

His fingers glide over the sharp, delicate-looking knee, along the surface of the high-strung thigh, squeezing the flesh hard in the wake, knowing that Spike does not mind a little pain. Digits skim over short, golden hairs, and journey slowly upwards, brushing against the softness as they do so. He presses him hand down in the firm skin, palm inside first and slides it up and then back down again with the back of his hand. Silky-soft, short hairs, barely there and yet, so very male. The skin on the inner thighs is almost hairless, and soft, and smooth to the touch. He sighs happily.

 

Up, up, up his hand travels again, until it rests between the vampire’s spread out legs, already bent for his perusal. His fingertips ghost over the shaved balls. Feel them, stroke them lightly and fondle them. The sack hardens and wrinkles, and Spike shifts a bit on the bed, whimpering slightly.

 

He grins in response and clucks his tongue at the restless vampire before resuming his caresses. Gently, he palms the ball-sack, weighing it in his hand.

 

Like everything else on Spike, it is perfect.

 

“So soft and full,” he whispers and bends forward. The wet noises from his kisses as he presses lips and tongue to the musky-smelling skin are followed by responding, guttural moans from Spike’s throat. The mattress’ metal springs beneath them groan, as Spike arches his back up and slightly to the side while he on his side keeps on kissing and licking relentlessly. He gently worries the skin as he growls in a small mimicry of a hungry dog and huffs out a breath of mirth as Spike shudders and groans. Spike is so responsive. It is irresistible and incredibly hot.

 

He lets go and kneels up between Spike’s legs and pulls out the plug. Spike makes a raw sound deep in the back of his throat. That  
throat, which is now like his entire body, coated in a sheen of sweat. As Spike ends his moan and swallows, so does he, momentarily, stop his motions. There is something altogether fascinating about watching Spike swallow. The way the Adam’s apple bobs inside that long, beautiful, almost aristocratic throat. He bends down and kisses Spike’s neck with fervor. Continues down and licks the tiny drops of sweat gathered in the indentation at the bottom. Savors the clean taste of his vampire lover.

 

He pushes himself back up on his knees and gazes down between Spike’s bent legs. Spike’s hole twitches and glistens invitingly between his widespread limbs and he can see the outline of Spike’s buttocks clenching and unclenching in anticipation. He inserts first one, then after a while, two fingers into the pouting sphincter, and gives Spike’s prostate some clever attention although he can hardly wait to simply take the vampire. Again, Spike arches his back and makes an unintelligible, almost garbling sound while his long cock hardens under the thorough ministrations that he is being submitted to.

 

Good lord, but Spike is sexy. It is almost unbearable. He licks the fingers on his free hand and massages Spike’s rigid cock, spreading the pre-come and spittle round and round in lazy, twirling motions while simultaneously rubbing the sensitive area inside the vampire, making Spike twist and turn.

 

He can feel his own cock twitch a bit too eagerly from the lovely sight and because of the sounds of Spike’s growing arousal he cannot wait any longer.

 

Abruptly, he pulls out his fingers and scoots down. He lines up and pushes into Spike in one forceful thrust and is unable to withhold his own growl of satisfaction. Spike mewls.

 

God, but Spike is perfect. He feels so good. So right. And he is what he needs. What he always needs these days, and he mourns the fact that he did not have this relationship with Spike years ago. He begins to move inside the vampire in deep, steady thrusts.

 

Spike’s hands clutches the bedding and the tendons in his long neck stand out as he tries to accommodate the big cock now pumping in and out of his body. It might hurt a bit despite the plug and the preparations. He knows full well that he is quite big. But if anyone can take it, it is Spike and he does, and he does it beautifully.

 

He looks at Spike’s face as he begins to fuck him harder. The way the vampire’s brow furrows, the way his eyes squeeze shut, and the way he pants through his nose, and whimpers and shakes. God, he is so amazing. He loves watching him. He cannot imagine ever going another day without him. His eternally youthful, and utterly fuckable vampire.

 

He cannot recall having felt more satisfied in his entire life, and he falls asleep with a smile on his lips with Spike lying right next to him.

 

 

****

Part 2

 

It has been another upsetting day at work. His colleagues argue against his every opinion and question his actions, pointlessly and repeatedly. Some of them seem to be talking about him behind his back, which is ludicrous. Worse, it is unsettling, and it rattles him to the core. He is a competent man; always has been. Incessantly striving to do what is right. This has been who and what he is for nearly all of his adult years, and were it not for him, there might not be a world to live in. Granted, he has never saved the world singlehandedly, but he has certainly provided the means for others to do so.

 

And they all know that, and rather should be aware of it. Instead of making him feel unnerved or stressed, they should appreciate him and show him the respect he deserves. He knows he deserves it. Everyone makes mistakes.

 

At times, he almost wants to shout from frustration and hurt. Naturally, he does not. Besides, it always helps when he gets back home to Spike. Now he lies, feeling sated and spent and almost able to block out worries and regrets. Next to him lies the vampire in their huge king-sized double bed.

 

Once again, Spike has graciously taken the blunt of his frustrations from another grueling day at work, but he nearly wishes Spike did not have to. Wishes he did not feel like it was necessary.

 

Spike’s slender body is covered in welts and bruises, a bit of blood and semen. Their spendings are mingled on Spike’s sculpted stomach. If he had not made Spike come as well, he would have felt downright awful right now. Of course, all of the injuries are minor and will be gone in a day or two. Besides, he knows full well, that vampires like to play with whips and paddles and that Spike by nature wants to be on the receiving end. There is no need for feeling bad about any of it.

 

Still, he truly does not want to hurt Spike this way.

 

Unfortunately, sometimes he cannot help himself. And Spike takes it, and takes it. Today though, he has been overstepping unspoken limits. He is the only one setting the rules as Spike is not going to stop him. Spike is a perfect sort of lover in that sense. His own personal, soothing outlet for grievances of any kind. It is perhaps not a role the vampire always relishes, but on the other hand, who is to tell? For what it is worth, Spike has become his sole raison d’être.

 

 

****

Part 3

 

 

At first, he can hardly breathe. He gets violently ill right after receiving the news. Wishes he could simply vomit everything out of him, even his life, but of course he cannot. Nothing has ever hurt this much.

 

Then come days covered in grey. He is going through the motions without truly registering what is happening around him and without any interest in trying to do so. Pointless details swivel around him and why should he bother whether a document thought lost has finally been retrieved, when the world as he knows it, has shattered?

 

He keeps hearing a nagging voice inside his mind: “Third time’s the charm – Third time’s the charm.” He is quite aware that it is not real. And yet it persists. He wants to tell it to shut up and let him be.

 

He wants to strangle whoever is mocking him thus.

 

He wants to break something. He wants to turn back time.

 

He wants a lot of things. He cannot have any of them.

 

There is important work to do no matter if his heart is whole or not, and his inbred sense of obligation prevents him from shutting down entirely.

 

Before it happened, he was trying to create a new and better council. Things were moving in the right direction although finding the right people has been far from easy. As it turned out, they did not quite succeed. But back then he used to be optimistic despite the fact that most of new council staff members are inexperienced. The majority of them have not been schooled previously within the field, and the ones who knew about the council before only do so due to relations to former Watchers. They are mostly somebody long dead’s favorite niece or another’s spoiled grandson.

 

Their relatives must have fed them spoonfuls of sugarcoated stories, as they all seem to believe that they have entered an exotic and exiting world in which they play a crucial part. They believe the council is a like a magic branch of MI5, FBI or that they participate in a supernatural drama called CSI Great Britain.

 

As they learn more, they become disappointed when they figure out that the work mostly consists of extensive research behind desks in dark offices, studying, translating, and cataloguing old scripts. Some leave within a few months. Yet, most remain. It’s hard to find work these days.

 

There are still a few active and competent watchers alive around the world. Every one of them has long since been assigned to some of the more talented slayers. The watchers are all far too rare and they are all needed out in the field. Which is why he had sent her to North Africa by herself in the first place. He knew that she could cope all alone if anybody should. Basically, he had believed that he had sent her off for a small vacation in the guise of a mission. He knew how she missed the sunny Southern California weather.

 

He has got no one to talk to, and truth be told, he does not want to say much to anyone anyway. He has told the kids to leave him alone and they mostly have. Most of the time he just wants to give up and stop living entirely. He is more alone than he has ever been in his entire life and he deserves to be.

 

Then one evening, he comes. Of all people, he comes. The vampire. He knocks on Giles’ front door and stands shivering outside the doorstep with rain pouring down his foolish, bleached hair. Asks if he can come inside? If Giles will please talk to him?

 

He shifts a bit on his booted feet when Giles does not respond immediately.

 

The rain makes it seems as if the vampire has tears in the eyes. He looks the very picture of despondency. Giles’ own cheeks are dry as parchment. They have been ever since it happened.

 

For no good reason that he can discern, he steps back and invites the vampire in.

 

 

****

Part 4

 

Spike is sitting in his kitchen. His long coat is hanging in the hallway still dripping on the carpeted floor, and his short hair is starting to get dry. Instead of slicked back, it is a mass of white curls. But his cheeks are still wet no matter how many times, he reaches up and wipes them off. Giles comes over with two cups of steaming tea in his hand. As he quietly sets one on front of Spike, the vampire looks up at him with those innocent looking blue eyes and thanks him. Giles frowns and sits down.

 

Spike begins talking and Giles does not want to hear a word out of that mouth. But he does not say so and sips his tea. Spike tells him that he is aware that Giles never thought much of him. “That should be pretty obvious from the Wood incident, right?” the vampires jokes but neither laughs. Spike continues his soliloquy. Something about Giles never trusting him. How he can understand that looking back.

 

Giles narrows his eyes and sips his tea, wanting to replace it with something stronger. He does not care about what Spike has to say. He wonders how Spike would react if he really knew how Giles feels about him? After all, distrust is hardly the description, he would use himself.

 

He half listens silently but nearly chokes, when Spike has the audacity to say that Giles should know that Spike doesn’t blame him for Buffy’s death.

 

A vampire is absolving him of guilt? He responds only by pressing his lips together. He can feel them become white and numb. Inwardly though, he is outraged. Spike does not understand what is happening or is too absorbed in his own thoughts. He goes on and on talking. He tells him that he has often thought about Giles in these past years. Thought about the misgivings each of them have had towards one another. How foolish that is, when both of them probably have more in common than not and when both are fighting the good fight. Giles raises his eyebrows at that declaration. Besides being born in England, he can see no resemblances between the two of them.

 

He sips some more at his tea and lets the vampire continue as his own mind goes darker. By now, Spike is divulging how he is convinced, that Buffy would have wanted the two of them to make peace. Perhaps even to become allies? Not friends of course but helping each other out? Working together? Giles can feel the beginning of a tick in his upper lip.

 

He stares blankly at Spike who seems to finally catch somewhat belatedly on . He seems to realize Giles’ frame of mind and his initial reaction to Spike’s suggestion of a partnership. But despite the panic showing in Spike’s eyes for a second, it is evident, that the vampire has taken it far too far already and is incapable of stopping. Just like a child digging a hole too deep to get up from.

 

By now the vampire is whispering how she, if she had known that Spike was around, how she would have wanted for something nice like that to happen.

 

“Don’t you think she would have liked that, Giles? You and me, battling evil? What do you say? Think we could give it a go,” asks the creature in a pathetically hopeful voice. Still, it is plain to see that he expects to be rejected, as he should be.

 

Even so, an air of that typical, stubborn and self-righteous determination of Spike’s seems to run through him. He looks at Giles, pleading for - what? Agreement? Reassurance? Forgiveness? Giles doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. What he wants to do cannot be said out loud. Minutes tick by and he watches dispassionately as Spike’s inhumanly perfect face finally crumbles and the light in those blue eyes wink out. He stares impassively as the demon bends his head and begins to cry quietly, looking like a real man twisted in sorrow.

 

That’s when Giles finally begins to feel something deep inside his dead heart but utter disregard.

 

It feels nice to watch Spike give up. Gives him a strong sense of satisfaction. And this epiphany brings in a torrent of emotions. It is not quite like an out-of-body experience. At least, not like the ones, he has read about when studying autoscopic hallucinations and yet it most definitely resembles the phenomenon. Suddenly his body doesn’t quite feel as if it belongs to him. Every noise and every colour in the room return full scale. The walls are blue, not grey. The lamp is yellow. The kitchen is cold, the tea smells sweet. The creature in front of him is an abomination.

 

Hidden, suppressed emotions come rushing back: Regret. Sorrow. Resentment. Hatred. Anger. It is almost dizzying for a few seconds, but he welcomes them. He’s been holding them down for far too long. Then rage such as he’s never known it before surges through him. It almost manages to block out the vampire’s meaningless low sobbing.

 

He stares at this demon, and hates the sight of him. To think that this creature believes that Giles would be in need of his forgiveness? Of his aid? That this possessed, pale body belonging to a man long dead, believes that he knows or knew Buffy’s needs and wishes better than Giles did? That he wants to work with Giles as if his cooperation could counter the fact that Buffy is not? It is completely unbearable. In fact, it is so flat out misguided it nearly chokes him. Spike, a bloody demon who’s slain thousands of innocent victims, is sitting in his home at his kitchen table alive, while Buffy Summers, the only truly good thing to ever happen in Giles’ life remains dead, blown to bits and pieces.

 

He polishes his glasses, while the vampire weeps and once they are spotless, he counts the stripes on the wallpaper behind the vampire trying to regain control of his emotions. Seventy-three vertical, light blue broad lines. He counts them twice to be sure. Oh, his wall clock has stopped working. There is dust everywhere. After a while, he is able to calmly get up and leave the table. He can hear the vampire’s intake of breath as he exits the room. A pitiful hitching sound like a small child whose mother has just him that he is unwanted. What a mockery of actual human feelings. He has to end this obscenity now.

 

He returns to the kitchen with a syringe in hand. It is filled with the same serum which Xander used in the tranquilizer darts from his time spent in Africa. Giles has been storing quite a bit of the serum in his refrigerator ever since just in case. The darts and the sedatives were officially a means to keep Xander safe from local wildlife. As such, Xander was able to bring the drugs through country borders and aircraft safety controls. But in actuality, the fluids were much more potent, and meant as protection from demons of any kind. The drugs had been both effective and practical. Apparently what would take out an elephant bull for a good long while, would take out any demon as well so Xander had been doubly protected.

 

Without any warning, Giles pumps the syringe and its contents straight into the guileless being’s back.  
Even while he is injecting the fluid into Spike’s body, he doesn’t quite understand why he doesn’t just stake the vampire and be done with it? But there it is.

 

“What the hell?” Spike manages to say and jumps up and reaches behind his back, trying to get rid of what is stinging him. He twists around. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re…?”

 

Giles knows that the sedation is nearly instantaneously effective and steps a few feet away and watches stone-faced, and unafraid. Those last words Spike uttered had already been slightly slurry.

 

Spike has knocked over the chair and is swaying a bit to and fro, mouth open in shock. Then his blue eyes roll backwards into their sockets and he slumps clumsily and sideways to the floor hitting his head on the table in the fall. He lies twitching and whimpering and it is only a matter of ten, perhaps twenty seconds before he loses consciousness altogether. Before slipping away, Spike tries to gain control of his eyes and Giles watches as his face shifts between human and vampire in a fascinating manner. But despite Spike’s attempts, his control is slipping away fast. He blinks slowly one more time and then his expression of confusion mixed with fury and shock smoothes out and he finally blacks out. A thin line of blood mixed with saliva trickles out from his slack mouth and there is blood in his hair as well.

 

Giles has not planned any of this, and he is surprised at the sense of pure satisfaction, that he gets from seeing the vampire lying prone at his feet. He gets a short pang of uneasiness. He is aware of the fact that Buffy had high regards concerning Spike. However, she had been a young woman at the time. What is more, she had been emotionally involved with Spike despite everybody’s warnings to the contrary. It is clear to Giles, that more than anything, Buffy had been affected by Spike’s looks. After all, no one can deny that Spike is attractive. Flawless body and sparkling, blue eyes that are as deceitful as they seem honest. After all, there are pretty, blue eyes on many a violent partner, parent and murderer. And yet, worldwide, people tend to believe that blue-eyed people by default are intelligent, innocent, and kind. Not so.

 

When Spike returned to Sunnydale with his newly acquired soul, Buffy had forgotten what he was and always would be; an evil demon. And while it is unprecedented that any vampire has fought for and won back its soul, Giles still finds little comfort in that fact. His own soul has never prevented him from doing harm when he has seen fit to do so, nor others from doing likewise. One must never forget that Spike, souled or un-souled is far stronger than any normal human and is very hard to kill, should he go rampant. Whatever he resembles in fairytale land, whatever his background story has been these past few years, he is never to be trusted.

 

Giles leaves the room and descends the narrow staircase to his cellar.

 

The air below is cool and slightly clammy this time of year. There are no windows in this particular room, just a few ventilation slits to allow some circulation of air. Decades ago, heavy rings have been inserted into the back room’s walls by his father who was also a watcher. Giles has never known whether any demons have in actual fact been secured down here, but he rather suspects not. His father preferred to stay behind his desk and rarely if ever went out into the field.

 

In the wooden chest next to the weapon storage cabinet, he finds the vampire proof chains and the other demon securing paraphernalia that he is looking for. He lifts up a heavy leather muzzle. It will definitely be effective when it comes to protecting him from bites, but it will not prevent Spike from speaking. Just the thought of listening to more of Spike’s prattle makes Giles wince.

 

He puts the muzzle down and picks up an equally sturdy looking metal gag. It is shaped almost like a horse’s bit, but with a triangular flange forged to it, which will keep Spike’s tongue in place. That should do the trick of shutting up the vampire. For a second, he feels another twinge of uneasiness but he disperses it. Spike is a vampire, a dead corpse animated by a vicious demon. Never mistake him for a human.

 

He walks back up into his kitchen, chains, and bit gag dangling and clinking in an eerie little tune. As Giles has expected, Spike is lying completely still exactly as he fell. He is not even breathing. He should be unconscious for at least a couple of hours still. However, better not err on the side of caution. He takes off his necklace with the silver cross. With a stake in his right hand, he uses his left hand to press the ornament against Spike’s cheek. The skin sizzles and smokes, but Spike does not stir. Very well, then. Businesslike, Giles cuffs Spike’s hands behind the back and attaches the equally heavy ankle chains around the legs. He forces open the slack mouth, and puts the bit in. He wipes off the bloodied drool covering his fingers on Spike’s t-shirt and proceeds to strap on the gag. The buckle catches a few of the white neck hairs. Giles makes sure to strap it as tightly as it goes. That done, he proceeds to drag the vampire down the stairs to the basement room. It is difficult to carry a body, which is completely limp so he ends up simply dragging Spike down by the feet.

 

With another heavy chain he secures the comatose demon to the back wall. Spike will only be able to lie down curled up on his side or sit up against the wall in a crouched position. He should be safe.

 

At night, he can hear the muffled, outraged roars and screams coming from his basement. He lies in his bed on the first floor and tries to block them out. When they finally stop, he falls asleep with a relieved sigh.

 

In the morning, he makes a mental note to remember to get some blood for the vampire. He knows where to get what he needs. There are plenty of suppliers where no questions are asked, and no tales are told. He decides not to go down and check on Spike just now. It is rather pointless and it will be a few days yet before the vampire is to be fed. For safety’s sake, Giles needs to keep Spike subdued at all times and hunger is certainly the most effective way to keep a vampire weak and cooperative.

 

As he drives to work that day, he feels accomplished for a change. It is a rather pleasant sensation. After all, feeling something is better than feeling nothing.

 

Buffy had been right about that, at least.

 

To be continued...


	2. At a Loss - Chapter 2

Part 5

 

 

Xander curses as his cell phone rings. He’s right in the middle of fitting a heavy closet door in a door frame, which is not an easy task, but the perky ringtone tells him who it is and that he better answer it. He puts the door down carefully and grabs the phone.

 

“Hi Xander.”

 

“Hi Willow.”

 

“How are you?” she asks.

 

 

“Hanging in there. Working mostly. You?”

 

 

“Trying to. It’s hard, though. I still miss her so much. She was my best friend, I mean, girlfriend, because you’re my…” She sighs deeply. “You know what I mean.”

 

 

He smiles a bit. Of course, he knows what she means. He’s Willow’s oldest friend and she is his. And Buffy was their best friend. It’s good to know that Will’s still around but now that Buffy is truly gone, it is as if a big part of who he is or was, is missing. The three of them grew to become grownups together during those significant late teens. The finality of Buffy’s death hurts and it probably always will.

 

It’s been nearly six years since the Hellmouth collapsed. They have all lost loved ones. Even though they have rarely seen each other since then, in many ways the three of them were closer than before in the end. Whenever they were able to get together, it was as if no time had passed at all. Except, or so he likes to think, they had all become a bit wiser and much more mature. Luckily, these changes added to the plus side of their friendships. Finally rid of crazy teenage hormones and inferiority complexes or superior ditto, they were able to actually listen to each other. Give each other better advice and respected it when well-meant advice wasn’t followed anyway. All in all the three of them finally became the friends, they always thought they were. Then came Buffy’s solo trip to Egypt.

 

 

Dawn of course has been the one suffering the worst through all of this. Xander had to be the one to tell her. Well, he didn’t have to, but he wanted to be the one to do it. He and Dawn have always been pretty close. So he flew out and spent time with her in San Francisco after the memorial. Ended up spending nearly a month on the west coast.

 

 

All Dawn has left now for family is Hank Summers. To the man’s credit and everybody’s surprise, Hank finally stepped up to his responsibilities. Dawn says he calls her every week still and even visits her once in a while. Besides, Dawn is all grown up now, too. She lives in a small rental with her boyfriend Keith who’s a decent guy. Dawn is not Buffy’s sister for anything. She’ll get through this because, just like Buffy, she’s tough. Way tougher than she looks. Eventually, they will all get through this. It still hurts as fuck, though. Which reminds him:

 

 

“How‘s Giles doing?”

 

 

At the memorial held in England, Giles hadn’t said much to Xander if anything at all. He’d looked like hell though. He and Buffy were living in England working with council right up until the accident. These past years, after most of the senior watchers were assassinated in the bombing by the First’s minions, the council has been little more than a name and some big bank accounts. It’s consisted of a scattered group of half-experienced watchers with Giles trying to take charge of things gradually. A real, functioning council is crucial to the slaying business. To begin with Xander had worked for the council in Africa trying to locate slayers on the continent. Willow had traveled back and forth between the US and the UK teaching and learning magic, trying to organize covens. There were a bunch of Wicca groups out there, but very few actual witches and finding slayers in Africa hadn’t exactly been a piece of cake, either.

 

 

They had needed some sort of ground control and Buffy and Giles had found the location for the new headquarters, not too far away from Giles’ private home.

 

 

It was in Giles’s kitchen less than a year ago that Xander had told them that he had decided to quit working in the demonic business to take up work as a regular carpenter. Or to be more precise as a regular carpenter-painter-whatever-you-needed handyman. Anything as long as it didn’t entail scales, slime, fangs and supernatural beings. Giles had not been pleased. But Buffy had been supportive right from the get go. The two of them had been sitting outside on the steps leading down to a small patio behind the house that night, just watching stars and chatting about this and that. She had wished him good luck and he’d wished her the same. Guess, her wish was more potent than his had turned out to be. Only months later, the council, that was Giles, had sent her off to a quick and easy mission in Egypt. This no-brainer, no-danger mission ended up being Buffy’s last assignment. Who the hell knew that there were landmines in Egypt? Millions of them even? Of course, nobody blames Giles for what happened. But Xander isn’t too sure that Giles feels the same way.

 

“He is not doing good, which is why I’m calling you, Xander. My friend, Inez works at the council. She’s sort of a witchcraft expert without being, you know, witchy. Anyway, she called me the other night and asked me about Giles. She wanted to know how he used to be back when he was working with us. We’re not that close so it took her a while to get to the bottom of it which is that she is really worried about him. Lately, he’s been acting, well strange, she said. Right after Buffy’s death, he was really withdrawn. I guess, we all were. But now he’ll get these hissing fits and sometimes he’ll simply get up and leave the office. And he makes a lot of mistakes, too. Acting very, you know, un-Gilesy.

 

“He’s still mourning Buffy, of course,” Willow continues. “and it’s pretty clear that he blames himself for what happened, but he doesn’t want to talk about it at all. Inez says that he’s refused getting professional help and that he’s just getting more and more irrational. So I called him yesterday to see if I could get him to open up a bit, but he more or less hung up on me. He told me that he appreciated me calling, but that he needed time alone and that I shouldn’t contact him for a while. At least not concerning private matters. Said that he’d get back to me, when he was feeling better.”

 

 

“Alright then,” Xander says. “Then give the man some space, Willow. Let him be for a while.”

 

 

“But I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid, Xander! I know he said to leave him alone, but that’s not right, I think. One of us should go see him to make sure he’s OK. And well, since you haven’t called him, it means, that you haven’t been told to stay away, you know? You’re still in Europe, right?”

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I am. But Willow, Giles and me… Look, I don’t think he’d like a visit from me. I mean, I’m good at fixing houses or picking up laundry and donuts or rounding up the occasional Equatorial slayer, but when it comes to Giles? We’ve never really seen eye to eye, Willow. Don’t get me wrong: It’s not that I don’t like him or don’t wanna be there for him. I do! It’s just… well, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t clever enough for him.”

 

 

“First of all that is so not true, Xander! Giles loves you! And it’s not about giving clever advice. It’s about giving comfort and.. and hugs! And you’re good at that! All you gotta do is pay him a visit and stay with him for a few days. Just tell him that you don’t have anywhere else to stay. He’ll loosen up once you get there, I’m sure. He’s like… in many ways, he’s our dad, Xander.”

 

 

Well, Willow is right about that. At least in the sense that most dads are often slightly disappointed with their sons. Besides, it’s really not fair to Giles who has been a way better father figure than Tony Harris ever was.

 

“Alright, I’ll go. But I have some unfinished work to do here. It’ll have to wait a couple of weeks or so. You said this friend of yours – Inez – is keeping an eye on him, right? That way, at least we’ll know about it if he suddenly doesn’t show up at work. In that case, I’ll be there pronto.”

 

 

“Alright, Xander. Thanks. I’ll call Inez and make sure she tells me if he, you know, acts odder or… calls in sick or some other thing that he’d never normally do. And let her make some flight reservations for you.”  
He tucks the phone back inside his pocket once they’ve said their goodbyes and sighs. This was not part of his plans at all. Currently, he is living in Berlin working for a family from Boston who’s bought a condo in the old Eastern part of the city. The location is pretty perfect. The family pays him handsomely for renovating the entire apartment and he likes the neighborhood and the relaxed atmosphere. And the beer. He sleeps in the apartment so boarding is free as well. He has promised the family that the place will be ready when they return next month. But if he speeds it up a bit he should be able to be done with the final details in a little less than two weeks. Maybe one.

 

 

By then, he’ll have to find a new place to live anyway. He’s got his small beach house back in Oregon that he bought last year. Maybe it’s time to go home to the US again. No matter what, he’s in not going back to doing watcher business. One single scheduled and ordinary project at a time for him, thank you very much. That’s how his brain best works. No more random demon killing or slayer searching or getting attacked by freak monsters. Never again.

 

 

 

Part 6

 

 

Getting the rack made turns out to be easier than he had imagined.

 

 

He has contacted a blacksmith up north and told the man that he is a physician specialized in treating patients suffering from severe cerebral palsy and that he requires a customized treatment bed. He needs a rack which can be attached to bedframe. It will have to made of sturdy metal to which one can secure the patients firmly for their own safety’s sake. Partly to allow the patients to rest while they are having massages or being examined and partly to let them be able to move their limbs in controlled motions via the rack’s special design. The smith is nodding approvingly as Giles describes what he wants. The system, which Giles has envisioned and designed, consists of two metal rails running along either side of a bed. The rails are to be bolted to the top and bottom of the bedframe and are quite similar to those of an average curtain slide bar. In this case, the slide bars are manufactured from much stronger materials of course. He tells the blacksmith that the patients are often unexpectedly strong as they lack any normal muscle restraint. It is therefore of utmost importance that they cannot free themselves or fall off the bed during their treatment sessions in any way. Apart from preventing the patients from hurting themselves, the restraints will also prevent a patient from unintentionally knocking out a caretaker. The blacksmith laughs at this little joke and Giles can tell how all of this makes perfect sense to the man, who is eager to begin the work. The man nods in agreement, when he is told how heavy steel eye bolt sliders are to run inside the metal rails and how the eyes on the bolts must be around the size of a grown man’s thumb in order to accommodate various sizes and types of restraining equipment. Along the sides of the two metal rails, holes are to be drilled in in two-and-twos, so that each eye bolt slider can be locked into place by pushing sturdy metal pegs through the holes on either side, securing the pegs with screw bolts and thus locking the sliders firmly in place.

 

 

The smith gets a generous down payment paid in cash paid by a physician who has never existed.

 

 

Only fourteen days later, Giles returns and picks up the ordered wares, thanking whatever gods there are for his old horse trailer on to which he quickly loads the rack and accessories. He pays the smith what he owes him plus a bit more, and promptly leaves.

 

 

It takes him the better part of a day to fasten the rack onto his huge oak bed in the upstairs bedroom. One of the rails runs along the middle of the king sized bed from the head frame to the foot of the bed, the other along the side. He does not want to keep the vampire in the cellar on a long term basis and he does not get any visitors anymore so there is no need for hiding Spike. Besides the cellar is terribly chilly. He has still not quite made up his mind about what to do with the vampire. But no matter what, he cannot set him free after having kept him chained up for nearly a month.

 

 

People would think he had gone mad.

 

 

Part 7

 

 

He keeps Spike gagged most of the time.

 

Whenever he needs to clean up the vampire or change the bedding, he injects a heavy dose of tranquilizer into the body and quite easily manages to maneuver the vampire around. Spike has always been a petite man, and though Giles feeds him regularly, he has lost quite a bit of weight. The bathroom is right next to the bedroom, but lately, he does not bother with the tub, but simply gives Spike sponge baths in the bed. And while he doesn’t make Spike pass out entirely anymore, he keeps him sedated enough so that the vampire is never entirely clearheaded. Still, the sponge baths make the vampire yelp and squirm and occasionally snap his teeth at Giles. The only thing they catch is the metal bit on the gag. Giles tsks and sometimes finds himself become slightly aroused by the sight of the struggling creature. It is a very intimate procedure after all and Spike’s naked body is a beautiful sight. Spike has not worn clothes for weeks now as Giles quickly came to realize that it was far too bothersome to let Spike wear any.

 

 

Part 8

 

 

He’s stopped injecting the tranquilizer and begun drugging the blood instead. Sadly, this means that he has to discipline Spike whenever the vampire deliberately spills blood on the linen or worse, spits it clumsily onto Giles’s face. Spikes poses too great a risk undrugged so there is no help for it. After only a few rounds of lashes to the slender foot soles, Spike has mostly stopped behaving like a child. These days he is eating quite nicely and otherwise lies silently, starring up at the ceiling.

 

Occasionally, Spike turns his face away and Giles can hear the stiffled sobs, which the vampire is trying to hold back. Giles always leaves the room whenever that happens. The gag, thankfully, muffles most of the noise. He decides he has to find something more effective than the drug, which he’s currently been using. He needs to keep Spike sedated without passing out entirely and without paralyzing him. The current drugs sometimes result in seizures, which are quite unpleasant to watch. His blood supplier might know of some alternative. He’s slept next to Spike for some weeks now. The bed is big enough and the rack and gag keeps him safe, but the jerks and twitches wakes him up every so often which is bothersome.

 

 

Part 9

 

Whenever he needs to change the linen or give Spike his now, daily evening sponge baths, Giles moves Spike’s legs from their usual stretched out position to a bent position. Spike clearly does not like it, but it cannot be helped. He keeps Spike’s arms spread above either side of the vampire’s head and as the creature weighs so little, he manages to get him clean and get the bedding changed too whenever necessary without much trouble.

 

He has placed a folded yoga mat under Spike’s head as it is far easier to feed the vampire if his head is raised a bit. The pillow is easy to wipe clean should any blood be spilled. despite Spike’s training.

 

He thinks he’ll shave Spike’s crotch. The hairs bother him, when he washes the vampire. He rather likes the smooth feeling of Spike’s inhumanly silky skin and the coarse and curly hairs seem entirely out of place. Besides, they make the vampire look like a man, which does not sit right with Giles at all. Yes, the hairs will have to go.

 

All in all, everything is working out satisfactory.

 

_To be continued… As always I love to read your comments. As this is unbetaed feel free to point out obvious typos or simple poor language._


	3. At a Loss - Chapter 3

Part 10

 

Xander knocks on the carved front door to Giles’ house and waits. 

 

He shudders a bit in the foggy afternoon air. It’s hard to believe that he and Buffy had been able to sit outside late at night when he was here last time. He’s glad he got to have her all to himself for once. Giles had gone to bed early. The sun had been shining all day and the evening air still held a pleasant tinge of warmth. Pretty much your average standard LA weather. Unlike LA though, bright stars had winked down at them from a clear night sky. They had had a long, good chat that night. Nothing important really, but it had been nice just being two friends hanging out together, talking about nothing and everything, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

 

The few other times, Xander has been here, it has always been raining or overcast. Sadly, today is no different. Giles’s house looks foreboding. The age induced patina has done nothing good for this place except to make it look more gloomy. But who knows, it might be quaint and charming to some people.

 

The door in front of him remains closed and Xander curses. He’s tried calling Giles before leaving Germany to give the guy a heads-up, but Giles hasn’t answered his calls. It’s Saturday, so he should be at home. His car is parked in the garage. 

 

Xander called Willow yesterday to get a what’s new on the Giles Situ. Apparently, Giles has been coming in to work all week. That seems to be a mostly good thing although he’s been still acting moody. Inez had told Willow, that Giles had left early one day, slamming all the office doors on his way out due to some unimportant remark from a watcher in training. Again, not typical Giles behavior at all. There is no question about it; Giles is definitely still wound tight and acting pretty erratic. He’s not dealing well with Buffy’s death and everybody gets that. But time mends grief. And so do hugs. As Willow’s said before, Xander can do hugs. He knocks some more on the door. As nothing happens, he yanks the door handle down, but the door doesn’t budge. He curses himself for a fool sending the cab driver away right after being dropped off. 

 

Growing up as the only child of Tony and Jessica Harris, Xander is beginning to feel a familiar pang of dread running up his spine. Not that Giles is anything like Tony and Jessica of course, but like any child of alcoholics, Xander has always noticed how Giles would like his whiskey just a little bit too much when times were hard. What if Giles is lying in there somewhere passed out cold? Xander steps away from the door and walks around the house, trying to peer in through the windows. But they’ve all been draped with heavy curtains or closed with shutters. It must be pitch dark inside. This being England, where the sun should be a welcome sight, it’s pretty odd. Giles was never one to shun the sunlight in California. The house almost looks abandoned. But it can’t be, can it? Then another thought hits Xander. What if Giles has somehow hurt himself? He hasn’t even finished the thought before he is knocking wildly on the windows, shouting Giles’s name out loud. 

 

After a couple more tries, he stops. He tries to get his breathing under control. Maybe he’s overreacting? Giles is probably not at home and that’s all there is to it. But what if he is? Should he call the police? And how do you even call the police in England anyway? Is it 911? Or 112 like in Germany? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

 

“GILES!” he shouts one more time.

 

“Xander?”

 

 

Part 11

 

 

“Giles!” Xander is aware that his voice comes out in a startled, adolescent sounding squeak. “Oh, man, you scared me! Am I glad to see you!” And before Giles gets a chance to reply, Xander throws his arms around him and hugs him hard. As expected, Giles stiffens, but after a few moments he relaxes a bit and pats Xander’s back awkwardly. Satisfied, Xander lets go of him. 

 

“Xander. What a surprise. A pleasant one, I should say. And please… don’t take this the wrong way, but what on earth are you doing here? Is something the matter? Has something happened to Willow?” 

 

Giles has already removed his glasses and is polishing them thoroughly. He frowns worriedly at Xander.

 

“No, everything’s good. Willow’s good, I’m good, thanks for asking. Thing is, I’ve just finished a job in Berlin and I thought I’d pay you a visit before I’ll head back home to the motherland.”

 

“Oh, I see. Yes, yes, of course I would like a visit from you… under normal circumstances, that is.” 

 

Giles sighs. “I mean, it’s very kind of you to think of me, Xander but, truth be told, I don’t feel very sociable these days. And what is more, I’m afraid I can’t even offer you a place to stay. At least not here.” 

 

“Oh,” Xander says. 

 

Giles puts his glasses back on with another frown. He looks thinner. Older. There is this tired draw to his mouth, and his hair has become grayer, too. 

 

“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t look like that, Xander! I’m not sending you off on your merry way. It’s nothing to do with you. As I said, I’m very pleased to see you. And you’re welcome here even if I don’t… It’s just that my house has been infected by vermin and it’s literally not fit for living in, right now. I’d brought home a box lfound in a Duh’mienti nest. Apparently the box was infected by these… bugs. After a few days away from home, the vermin had found their way into my pantry. I can deal quite well with demons of all sizes as you well know, but when it comes to cockroaches, I have to draw a line.” 

 

Giles smiles tiredly and this time, Xander can see some semblance of humor in the gray eyes and he smiles back at him. 

 

“Anyway, the pest control is coming this week and hopefully they’ll be able to get rid of the things quite quickly. As a matter of fact I was just about to leave, but I’ll be glad to take you back to town. There’s an inn there with rooms for   
hire. The Woolpack. I was going to stay there while my house is being treated.”

 

There is something very comforting about listening to Giles’s voice and seeing the man and his awkward motions again. It’s like coming home. He knows it’s ironic that he’s never felt like this in front of Jessica and Tony. He rarely sees them let alone talks to them. Doesn’t want to. In fact, they are part of the reason why he bought the old beach house in Oregon. He has pretty much bought the house online after googling pretty pictures. The house is far away enough away from his parents to ever come to visit him and it doesn’t remind him of Sunnydale and dead lovers or loved ones too much. But sometimes, like now, memories of the past aren’t all bad.

 

“Look Giles, I’m sorry for showing up like this. I mean, I did try calling you this morning and the day before, but I guess I should have called you way before that. Or contacted you at the office. But I’ll tell you what; I just got a boatload of money from a finished renovation job - and might I add a heartfelt Danke Schöhn to whomever invented the internet! My clients took a virtual look around their renovated apartment and transferred the money to my account presto! As a matter of fact, I’m proud to say that I have a not so insignificant amount of very strong Euros in my back pocket as we speak. I’ll buy you dinner for a change. And I’ll pay for my room, of course.”

 

“That’s very kind of you, Xander, though we still use good, old British Pounds in this country. But regardless of that, I won’t hear of it. You’ll be my guest and I will pay for you during your stay. Oh, and don’t take this the wrong way please, but I take it you’re heading back home to America in a foreseeable future?“ 

 

Giles says this in that way of his, where the inflection goes up in the end in an attempt to sounding all inconspicuous and innocent. Still, Xander can’t really blame Giles for wanting to get rid of him sooner than later. It’s not like he has invited Xander to come stay with him. After all, he told Willow to basically put a sock in it and leave him alone. So Xander shrugs and nods. He hasn’t booked his ticket yet. He promised Willow not to leave Giles before he was certain that the guy is okay and he’ll keep that promise. 

 

They get into Giles’ car and drive back towards town. The hilly landscape is pretty enough, but nothing beats the Pacific north west. Although he hasn’t actually lived in the ram shack house of his yet, he has been there a few times, and the ocean view from his porch is blow-out-your-mind beautiful. Huge bald eagles fly by every day, along with all kinds of birds that he’s yet to figure out what are. And occasionally you’ll even see a whale blowing up steam or whatever you call it. And the sunsets. Well, they are freaking awesome. His neighbors’ houses can’t be seen from his tiny, future home and he likes it like that. Besides, despite the apparent solitude, it doesn’t take too long to drive to the closest town which has decent supplies of everything you need. They even got a couple of nice coffee stalls besides the ever present Starbucks and there’re some decent takeout places, too. The Indian one is his favorite. He bought the house on a whim. It was cheap as hell, probably because it was almost uninhabitable and because of the whole financial crisis going on. But the roof was whole and the foundations were solid. He managed to get the bathroom up and running last fall. Still, the house needs a lot of renovation. Good thing that that’s exactly what Xander excels at. As they drive through the landscape he realizes that he’s really looking forward to returning. Even the prospect of knowing that the house will keep him busy for a long, long time makes him happy. What’s more, he misses listening to people that talk like he does. And he misses the spontaneous conversations that happen all the time back home. Regular people don’t have those unspoken rules of “minding your own business” like they do in Europe. Nope, he’s not going to miss any of those European, uptight politeness barriers they’ve got going over here one bit. Sure, he likes not having to worry about getting mugged or shot at in a mall, but growing up on the Hellmouth has always put those risks at the low end of worries anyway. He is going to miss European beer, their bakeries, and the clean 7-Elevens, but he can do without those things too, no problemo. In fact, as he sits here in Giles’ car, he is so ready to go back home that he almost can’t wait. Despite losing Buffy, Xander’s life is pretty good and it’s looking to get better. But first he’s got to finish this and make sure that Giles’s alright. He’s here to help this man who has been the most best adult influence in his life, and he is going to see it through, whether Giles wants him to or not. 

 

The Woolpack Inn has a nice, homey British feeling to it, but like most buildings in the UK, or at least the ones that Xander’s been to, it’s too chilly for his liking. After a quick shower and some warmer clothes, Xander meets up with Giles in the small restaurant below. They have a pretty bland meal of potatoes and meat and some overcooked green beans. Still, it’s actually better than what most German restaurants will serve you. At least the ones, Xander has frequented.

 

The conversation is mostly Xander telling stories from his recent life. Giles listens politely, but doesn’t say much. In fact, he looks kinda tired and pre-occupied, but Xander doesn’t want to let him off the hook just yet. 

 

“So how’s work?” Xander ventures as he swallows a salty, over-cooked and mushy potato. 

 

Giles looks down at his plate and dabs at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. 

 

“There still remain quite a lot of cataloging and re-acquiring of books and scrolls. Of course, with the staff still being relatively new, it’s got its challenges.”

 

“Such as?” Xander asks and takes a swallow of his beer.

 

“Well,” Giles eyes flicker with some emotion that Xander can’t quite put a name on. 

 

“To put it shortly, the people working at the council are barely dry behind their ears. And yet, each one of them thinks they know it all. The foolish kids believe they are demon experts already. That they are invincible. Infallible.” 

 

Xander wants to smile at this, because Giles must have thought the exact same thing when he first arrived in Sunnydale and had to deal with them. But then again, they had really had been just kids. How old were thet? Sixteen? The staff working for the council are probably Xander’s age. But Giles isn’t smiling.

 

“They think that because they can recite parts from “Of Dark Magicks,” they know all there is to know. Last week, some of them managed to translate the recently recovered Mptaletyonik Scrolls into understandable English and I am not saying that’s not fairly well done, but who needs to know about the Mptaletyonik cuisine, I ask you? We have much more important matters at hand and those scrolls turned out to be utter useless rubbish, precisely as I told them they would be! But did they listen to me? No! They prioritize their time completely wrong and they won’t do as they’re told and I am sick and tired of watching out for young fools who will end up getting themselves, or worse, their slayers killed some day!“

 

Giles slams his hand down hard on the table, making Xander jump in his seat and the glasses and cutlery cling and his fork drops to the floor. The restaurant’s other guests look alarmed but as is the polite thing to do, they quickly avert their eyes, and resume eating. 

 

Xander starts to say something in reply, but Giles continues before he gets a chance, 

 

“Not only are they foolish in their ignorance, they are impolite! It seems that during my absence from this country, all common courtesies have been tossed out the window. People talk back to their orderlies all the time! They don’t listen without interrupting and they will not take instructions properly but demand to be explained why all the time!”

 

Giles’ face has turned dark red. A dilated blood vessel in his forehead pulses rapidly. Xander stares at him with wide eyes. Giles has got a piece of meat skewered on his fork and the utensil is shaking in his hand from pure exertion. It takes some long seconds before Giles notices Xander’s discomfort and he visibly pulls himself back together. He puts down his fork and removes his glasses. Teeth pressed tightly together, he grabs the napkin next to his plate and dabs his forehead and upper lip, removing small pearls of sweat that are shining in the dim yellow lights from the wall hung lamps. He breathes in and out slowly – deep, steadying breaths a couple of times. Then he shakes his head and resumes eye contact with Xander.

 

“It’s… it’s all very stressful, as you can imagine. I apologize for becoming this agitated. It’s obviously something that weighs heavily on my mind but…can we please change the subject?” 

 

 

Part 12

 

 

He’s more aware than he wants to be. 

 

Usually Rupert keeps him drugged up pretty thoroughly. He is never precisely unconscious, but most of the time he is almost able to shut out what’s being done to him. Of course, he feels the discomfort of being chained to a bloody bed, and being immobile. Senses the invasions on his body. But the drugs make him care less, and for that he’s pathetically grateful. However, when it’s getting close to one of his feeding times, which somehow seem to become further and further apart, the drugs wear off too much and too soon for his comfort. 

 

Along with the growing hunger comes awareness and he dreads that most of all. If only Rupert would feed him more often, he wouldn’t be aware for as long as he is. Wouldn’t be bothered by hunger, either. He knows he should feed much more often in order to remain strong and not lose weight. 

 

He also knows that Rupert doesn’t want him strong at all. 

 

He hates it when soberness reaches down and grabs him by the hairs on the nape of his neck. Hates that he is able to sense it coming for him long before it’s actually there. Sadly, he is all too accustomed to the signs of its dreaded   
arrival by now. The first being the gnawing hunger in his belly which quickly goes from slightly annoying to nearly all consuming in body and mind. Although it’s a consistent part of his sorry existence, it’s not until the drugs begin to wear off, that it truly begins to hurt. As he becomes more attuned to his body’s outraged cry for sustenance, he’s also more aware of where he is. Knows that up until this very moment, he’s been submerged in a blessed, intoxicated haze. Knows that his sense of being far away from his body has been a pitiful lie. The bloody stomach burns and gurgles and roars and he knows that before he gets just a single drop of the drugged blood, he will have to return fully to his self. Rupert never feeds him unless he is all there anymore. And he truly doesn’t want to be. 

 

Then the hand is there and it pulls him up, and he shivers, and gasps and gets goose bumps all over his shaking body which makes him moan because he doesn’t want to sense his body at all. He doesn’t want to see or hear or feel a bloody thing! But he is caught like a drowning puppy by the scruff of his neck and up he goes whether he wants to or not. 

 

When he hits the surface, he wants to scream from pain, and anger and outrage. But he’s long since stopped screaming. It’s not like anyone would come to his rescue, and Rupert never comes inside the room until he’s settled down completely anyway. His thrashing fits have also become shorter for each time, he’s been pulled up in the clear. They’ve never made any difference either, but he can’t quite stop them yet. He lies there chained to the bloody bed from hell, gasping, shuttering, jerking, and in pain. He is so hungry that he ought to be dead from starvation only that’s not a possible way for him to go, is it? But when Rupert finally comes in and feeds him, he sobs in gratitude and drinks up, because what else can he do? What else can he do but eat, and hang on and hope that, someday, a miracle will happen and he will be able to break free? 

 

Sometimes he whimpers as he slurps down the blood and Rupert doesn’t want that. Then the man will remove the blood and leave the room, which in turn means that it will take all the while longer to be granted a return to the sacred, dark, and murky waters within his mind. The longer it takes him to get his fill, the longer it takes before the drugs set to work. Still, he’s not always able to drink up all quiet like, like a good boy. But this time, he’s been good though, and as soon as Rupert thinks, he’s had enough, the cup and straw is removed and no amount of begging for more will make any difference. He’s not a person in Rupert’s eyes at all. That’s the worst of it. Rupert couldn’t give a flying fart as to what Spike want’s or doesn’t want.

 

It’s only when it’s nearly over, only when he’s had to endure Rupert on top of him, felt his sweat on his face and his fingers on his nipples, and his warm, dry lips sucking on his throat – only then does the hand finally let go of his neck once more and allows him to slip away. Down he spirals towards the soothing nothingness of a near painless, near non-existence. 

 

Not for the first time, he prays to any Gods that may be out there, that his selfish idea of pleasing Buffy in her Afterlife by making peace with Rupert has not been noticed by her. He needs her to be completely unaware of what is happening down here. Because if she can see this, see what’s happened – he’ll never be able to forgive himself. 

 

 

Part 13

 

 

Xander’s pretty beat once he’s back in the hotel room. 

 

As soon as he is done brushing his teeth, he throws himself on the queen-sized bed. The mattress doesn’t give the expected and hoped for bounce back, but it’s a bed with clean white sheets, a pillow and a soft blanket. In other words, it’s perfect. 

 

He snuggles down and sighs contentedly. 

 

Giles’ little outburst tonight had been unlike the guy, but on the other hand, the man’s been a watcher for… what? Decades? Of course it must be pretty fucking annoying to have to deal with newbies. Newbies who don’t know the first thing about fighting demons or dealing with supernaturally powerful Slayers. And without Buffy by his side. Xander’s glad he’s come here though because Willow was right. Giles is in a bad place right now, and he shouldn’t be left alone. Sure, it would be more than a stretch to call tonight a success, but nobody got hurt or quit the scene entirely. That’s gotta count for something. Still, he’d better call Willow and give her an update to rest her worried mind. 

 

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and dials her number. 

 

After reassuring Willow that he’s alright and that he has not only seen Giles, but has had dinner with him and that yes, he’ll be staying for a while, and that no, he is not afraid that Giles is going to harm himself or others, Xander heads back out into the tiny hotel bathroom. Twenty minutes of talking has made him thirsty. He drinks some of the tap water with a grimace. Normally, he sleeps in the buff, but this hotel is so freaking cold, so he toddles back into bed still wearing his t-shirt, his boxers and socks. He throws himself back onto the bed and crawls under the still warm covers with a satisfied sigh. He turns on the TV. There’s some Scandinavian crime show on. A tired looking woman in a thick, knitted sweater is trying to solve a crime and for some reason, the show captivates him. It takes a while to get used to the subtitles and the ugly language, but the show’s kinda alright. The woman reminds him a bit of Buffy. A tired, older, and less pretty version of Buffy to be sure, but still. Maybe this would be how Buffy would have looked like in twenty years had she been allowed to grow older and had she been living somewhere cold and rainy? Nah, his Buffy would be a slim, fashionable good looking 40 year old. With a nice tan and perfect makeup.

 

 

Part 14

 

 

“Xander! 

 

“Xander, wake you, you dope! Now!”

 

A bucket of icy cold water is emptied out over his head and he screeches and falls out of the bed, drenched and entangled in the equally wet sheets. 

 

“Help! What? Who? What?” he sputters as he pushes himself up onto his knees and jerks his dripping head around in frantic confusion looking for whoever did this. There’s nobody there. Just him in a pool in his hotel room.

 

“Me, that’s who!”

 

Shock and delight course through him as he belatedly recognizes the voice. But he still can’t see her. Which is… more than just a little bit scary. 

 

“Buffy?” he says and looks all around him. 

 

She is not there. 

 

Of course, she isn’t because she’s dead and he’s obviously dreaming! Or just woken up. Or lost his mind. Something like that. But the water still feels cold and real and very, very wet. 

 

“You probably can’t see me. I haven’t figured out how the whole projection of my body image thingy works. I mean, I can’t even see me. It’s just like that time with the trio. Only less fun. But that’s not important right now. It’s me, Xander and you just gotta trust me on that one, alright?”

 

Xander stands and wipes off the water from his head and wrings his t-shirt as best he can. He moves to remove it, but changes his mind. So he can’t see her, but she can probably see him, right? So he stands there, clothes dripping in a room where the temperature seems to have dropped to below 30 degrees all of a sudden. 

 

“Sorry about that,” Buffy’s voice says, and he can almost imagine her waving her hands in the direction of his dripping self. “But you just wouldn’t wake up and I only have a few minutes, so we gotta hurry. Listen up, Xander. Giles is not well. I mean, when I say he is not well, that’s a huge understatement! He’s completely lost it and right now I don’t know if I even want to help him get better if I had the chance, because ... He is gone completely evil, Xander. He’s been keeping Spike prisoner for months and he’s hurting him. Hurting him really badly. 

 

“I don’t know what’s causing it. And don’t give me any of it’s because of your death bs, because nothing can excuse what’s going on right now. Maybe something demony has gotten into him, I don’t know. Or maybe he’s simply a creep and we never knew. All I know is that I won’t be able to do anything about it, but Spike needs help and he needs it now! Xander, you gotta help him.”

 

“Spike? But Buff…”

 

“Spike’s my champion, Xander and that means enough to the PTBs that they are giving me this opportunity to reach out to you. Go get him! Don’t trust a word Giles says, just go get Spike the hell out of there. And Xander… Be careful!” 

 

“But I don’t understand. Spike’s dead, remember? And … Look, I so don’t want to talk about Spike right now. God, Buffy, it’s so good to, well not see you, but hear you! Man, I’ve missed you so much! And so have Willow and Dawn, of course. I mean, they would just go mad if they could talk to you again. And so would Giles. I know he’s acting weird, but he’s in a great deal of pain because of what happened, and …”

 

“I love you, Xan but focus! This is about Spike and I don’t have any more time left!”

 

The outlines of a sort of angry looking Buffy shimmer to life right in front of him.

 

“Hey, I can see you now!” Xander happily exclaims. Buffy snorts, and shakes her head. Her mouth is set in a very firm line as she empties yet another bucket of icy water over him.

 

 

Part 15

 

 

He jerks upright, gasping as he runs his hands over his face to the water out of his eye and nose. But there isn’t any water to get rid of. 

 

He’s back in his bed. The sheets and the blanket are on the floor in a tangled heap, but they don’t look wet at all. He touches his face with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. His skin is definitely cold and clammy but his clothes are of the no dripping variety. In fact, there is no sign of water anywhere. Or of Buffy. His heart sinks. For a few minutes, his world was all right again. A few more seconds go by, as his mind is back to reconciling with the fact, that Buffy is irretrievably dead.

 

That was some dream, though! It’s almost impossible to comprehend that it really wasn’t real. Buffy sounded and looked just like she used to do. Except for the whole water throwing thing. That part was a new thing and a totally uncalled for addition to any dream, by the way. He hopes his selfconsciousness won’t make a repeat performance.

 

And what was that about dreaming about Spike? Xander’s not given the bleached menace any thoughts since the battle on the Hellmouth years ago. He snorts at the weird going-ons in the subconscious and twisted hallways of his mind, and reaches over to get the remote. The TV is still on, the show long since over, and he turns it off.

 

It’s nearly 3 a.m. and the hotel is mostly silent except from the sound of the ventilation system and the odd sounds of someone flushing the toilet or people walking around once in a while. 

 

After an hour of restless tossing and turning, he finally manages to slip back into sleep.

 

The annoyingly effective standard iPhone tune tears him out of the shallow depths of his recent slumber. He jerks upright and fumbles after the goddamn thing on his nightstand. He can barely see in the darkness and nearly manages to shove the phone over the edge of the nightstand. After two failed tries, he gets the damn screen to react to his thumb’s frantic sliding movements and the call goes through. 

 

“Hello, who’s this?” he asks a bit gruffly.

 

“Xander, is that you?”

 

“Deadboy?” Can this night get any weirder?

 

“’Um, yeah, it’s me.”

 

“What the hell, Angel? Do you know what time it is where I am right now?” What time is it anyway? Xander glances at the alarm clock. Red numbers declare that it’s 6.17 am. Way too early to even think of getting up. 

 

“And how did you get my number?”

 

“Sorry about waking you up. It’s… really not that early, you know… And I used the Yellow Pages. Um, look, I’m trying to find… someone. And I think he might be in England and you’re in Europe, right?”

 

“Yeah. So?”

 

“Uh, this is kind of difficult for me, because he really didn’t want any of you guys to know this. But I’ve run out of options and there’s no other way, so here goes: I’m looking for Spike. He’s gone missing. ”

 

“Look, Angel, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Spike turned to dust in Sunnydale nearly six years ago. I thought you knew that… Wait, didn’t you?” 

 

“I know,” Angel says. “He burned up and closed the Hellmouth. But he got resurrected afterwards.” 

 

Before Xander can get to say anything, Angel interjects him: “You know how it is, Xander. Sometimes, resurrections happen and in the case of Spike – well, he came back just a couple of weeks after Sunnydale imploded.”

 

Xander bellows out a short, sharp laugh at Angel’s words. 

 

“Come on, Angel! You expect me to believe that? Look, if Bleach Boy had come back alive, the first thing he’d done would have been running back to Buffy. In fact, he’d be by her side so fast, you wouldn’t have been able to see his feet from the smoke billowing out from under his soles!”

 

“…From his… soles?”´

 

Well, it’s not like Xander ever claimed to be the most eloquent person on Earth, but he’ll stand by that expression, dammit.

 

“Um… Oh! Okay,” Angel continues. Then he chuckles wryly. 

 

“And yeah, you would think so, wouldn’t you? But believe it or not, Spike did come back and he ended up not wanting to contact Buffy. Or any of you guys, as it turns out.” 

 

Xander frowns, but he doesn’t interrupt, as Angel continues. 

 

“I mean, sure, you’re right; to begin with, he did want to find her, but the thing was, he couldn’t leave. He wasn’t really back back, you see. I mean, he was kind of a ghost back then, and his spirit or what you would call it was bound to LA. Mostly to where I was, actually.“ 

 

Angel sounds a bit resentful at that particular memory. 

 

Xander tries to imagine having a ghostly Spike around 24-7 and it does seem pretty big on the bugging scale. After all, Xander suffered plenty of humiliating incidents when Spike was living with him in his actual dead flesh. It doesn’t take a vivid imagination to picture how a ghostly Spike would enjoy walking through walls and snicker when you were on the crapper or having a private moment with your hand. As his mind spins he realizes that he’s already bought the idea that Spike isn’t dead-dead anymore. You learn to adapt quickly, when you grow up on the Hellmouth.

 

“Anyway,” Angel sighs, “I didn’t exactly offer him any help getting back in contact with her.”

 

“OK, so Spike was a genuine Caspar. But he isn’t anymore?” 

 

“Yeah. He didn’t like being a ghost, but he actually managed to help us out a couple of times despite being uncorporeal. Caught some bad guys. When he wasn’t being irritating as hell, that is.” 

 

Xander chuckles a little. Then he frowns. “Us?” he asks. 

 

“I was working with a team of good people back then. Helping the helpless, you know.” Xander can hear that even Angel thinks that expression sounds sort of too much. 

 

“At the time, we were fighting evil from inside enemy lines. At Wolfram & Hart’s LA office.”

 

Xander remembers that name. It was something to do with evil lawyers and a big fight which Buffy and the rest of them had to stay out of because they all feared that Angel was fighting for the wrong team. Nothing happened that Xander had noticed and he hadn’t thought about it since then.

 

“… Later on, Spike got his body back and he - we – both decided to let Buffy be.” 

 

Angel clears his throat. His voice sounds sad and bitter. “Seems like the wrong call now, doesn’t it? But back then, we thought we were doing the right thing and we just wanted her to be happy. Besides, Spike kinda liked how he ended up being her final vampire with a soul and chosen champion and all that.” 

 

The sound of childish affront in Angel’s voice makes Xander roll his eye. And cheer for Spike at the same time. After all, anyone is a better choice than Angel, as far as Xander’s concerned and yes, that even includes Mr. Peroxide himself… who at times could be almost alright to have around. And he was surprisingly nice to hang out with around a game of pool. 

 

“To make a long story short, Spike stayed with me and we’ve been working together, fighting demons ever since. When Buffy died, the news hit us both hard. I’m sure you can imagine. Bottom line is, we ended up having way too much to drink one night and we had a stupid fight where we said some things best left unsaid. Fecking ridiculous, when I think of it now, of course. But the next day Spike just took off, and I haven’t heard from him since then.”

 

Xander sits down on the bed. He rubs his eyes, or rather his eye and his empty eye socket. It’s a futile attempt at getting just a little bit more awake and clearheaded. 

 

“Ok, so Spike’s not dust. And the two of you had a big fight, and you acted like petty little kids, and he left. Aside from all the other stuff you just told me, that sounds pretty much like standard Spike behavior to me. Why do you think something bad’s happened to him?”

 

“Standard Spike behaviour? Are you kidding me? You of all people should know that Spike doesn’t just leave. I know he was a jerk before he got his soul back, but he wasn’t a quitter. And he didn’t let you down. He was, and I know this sounds ridiculous because it’s Spike, but he was loyal. I mean, the little fool always comes back. He just can’t help himself. Once you’ve got his, his loyalty, it’s yours for good! He is annoying, sure, but you can count on him. Always!”

 

Xander doesn’t reply as he weighs Angel’s words over. It’s true, that Spike doesn’t quit. At least, not voluntarily and not without a reason. And he can even understand how someone could become close enough friends with Spike to actually care about him. 

 

Xander and Spike never made it that far, but they probably could have, had Spike come out alive after the battle on the Hellmouth. One thing is certain; Spike was very close to Buffy in the end. More than close. He was her goddamn champion and that’s pretty high on a scale of how much trust you put in a person. But of course Spike’s not an actual person, but a vampire. Xander touches a hand to his remaining eye and remembers how this particular vampire saved him from going blind. OK, Spike might be a vampire, but he acted like a man in the end. A good man. A hero.

 

He realizes that Angel is still talking and tries to concentrate. “… a couple of weeks had gone by without any word from him and I started looking for him. The two of us, we’re used to having each other’s backs. I just know there’s gotta be something wrong…” 

 

Angel’s voice breaks and Xander can hear him choke a bit. 

 

Is Angel crying? Over Spike? 

 

For some reason, that actually makes Xander feel bad for the thickheaded vampire. Fuck. 

 

Angel clears his throat. His voice is a bit rough as he continues, “it’s driving me insane, Xander! I’ve been searching everywhere on this side of the pond, but no one’s heard or seen anything. I think he must have gone to Europe. I can’t think of anywhere else.” 

 

Xander sighs. Someone’s gotta tell Angel this and it might as well be him. 

 

“The world is a big place, Angel. But… he could also be dust,” he says quietly.

 

“Dust? No! Spike wouldn’t go out like that! Without causing some kind of commotion? No, I mean, that’s like imagining the Queen of England doing a scene in a James Bond stunt. No, he’s not dead. And here’s the thing. Like I said, I think that Giles knows where he is.” 

 

Angel sounds hesitant and he should be, because that’s a pretty lame assumption. That is, were it not for the fact that Dream Buffy just told Xander the exact same thing. 

 

Xander shudders. He’s seen far too many supernatural things to dismiss the idea of Dream Buffy or maybe rather Ghost Buffy entirely. On the other hand, dreams are usually full of crap and unless you’re a slayer, they are pretty much   
worthless. Dream Buffy was probably just a weird coincidence. It happens.

 

“Giles doesn’t even know that Spike’s alive, Angel.”

 

Angel’s voice is very quiet as he replies. “Giles knew that Spike came back. He’s known about it for years. So has that boy from Sunnydale, what’s his name… Andrew? He knows it, too.”

 

Andrew knows this? Xander can’t believe it. On the other hand, why would Angel say something like that which can so easily be fact checked? 

 

Xander remembers how Andrew practically drooled whenever Spike was around back in Sunnydale. The only explanation for Andrew keeping quiet is that Andrew somehow managed to grow up too. Huh. 

 

“Seems like everybody knows that Spike came back, but me,” he says. Makes me wonder if Buffy knew it too?” 

 

“No, she didn’t. I mean, not unless Giles or Andrew told her. Or Willow.” 

 

Willows knows it, too. Xander’s beginning to feel bone weary and tired.

 

“But I don’t think they did,“ Angel says. “I’m pretty sure, Buffy would have shown up in LA as soon as she’d found out about it and kicked our asses. Or maybe just his. I mean, it was his idea to keep her in the dark, not mine, really.”

 

Despite feeling left out, Xander’s lips quirk. Angel is kind of an idiot if he thinks that Buffy wouldn’t have given them both a thrashing. How could they do this to her? How could any of them do this to her?

 

“Like I said, Spike didn’t want her to know and he told that Andrew guy to keep quiet that time when we were all looking for that crazy Slayer runaway, what’s her name …”

 

“Dana,” Xander replies absentmindedly. 

 

While it’s still pretty much impossible to believe that Andrew would be able to keep his mouth shut about something momentous like his idol being resurrected, it’s not so hard to believe that Giles would have been able to keep quiet. 

 

But Willow… why hasn’t she said anything to him? Sure, Willow and Giles used to be very close, but still. Giles must have managed to convince her that it was for the greater good. Not the first time he’d make these kinds of decisions, either. As much as Xander hates or more accurately, hated the thought of Buffy and Spike being together, he still knows deep down that keeping them separated would never have been what Buffy would have wanted. Maybe she wouldn’t have become Spike’s girlfriend, but she would have loved having him back in her life. 

 

“Why do you think Giles knows where Spike is?”

 

Angel sighs. “I called Giles some weeks ago, asking him for help. The Council has a lot of connections, or they used to, and I don’t have access to the same kind of resources I did back when I was CEO at Wolfram & Hart. 

 

Angel had even been the CEO of the evil lawyer firm? Have no one told Xander anything? And since when did Angel become a lawyer anyway? But before he gets to interrupt Angel with questions, Angel continues, 

 

“Spike never told me much about the time right after he’d won his soul and returned to Sunnydale, but I knew he and Giles had some kind of fall out. I figured they had worked it out in the end. So I expected Giles to at least hear me out, but he flat out refused to help me. I know that the Council doesn’t usually collaborate with vampires and I know that Giles has good reasons for not wanting to help me out. But I figured, Spike was one of you guys in the end, right?”

 

Xander shifts uneasily on the bed. Spike had helped them, sure. He’d even ended up sacrificing himself in order to save the world. But one of them? No. Spike was never one of them. His actions were never seen as something you should appreciate in the same way as if he’d been human. Spike was just there and nobody cared much about it. Most of the time, he was just a nuisance. None of them ever let him into their friendship circle. No one except from Buffy.

 

“So I thought, Giles would think differently when it came to searching for Spike, but like I said, he refused to help and that was that. I’ve been thinking about that ever since. Look, I know that I’m not exactly known for being empathic or a great mind reader or anything, but I thought he sounded off somehow. Like he was hiding something. I don’t think Giles has ever lied to me before, but I got the feeling that’s what he did that day. He knows something about Spike’s disappearance and for some reason he just doesn’t want to share any of that info with me. Which brings me to why I’m calling you in the first place. Because I’m thinking that maybe he’ll share what he knows with you.” 

 

All Xander wants to do right now is to lie down, pull up the covers and shut the world out for at least three more hours. Can’t he just get some peace and quiet?

 

“Oh, come on! Why does everybody think that Giles has gone bananas? He’s mourning Buffy, for crying out loud! Is that really so hard to understand? Buffy has been his responsibility since she was little more than a kid, and he loved her like a daughter! And then he ended up being the one to send her off to her fucking death just like I’m sure he’d always feared, he’d end up doing. Who can blame him for not giving a shit about other people right now? Least of all you and Spike? I mean, it’s pretty obvious, he’s going through a rough time. He’s drained. He nearly hasn’t got enough energy to want to talk to me! Or worse, to talk to Willow! So if you ask me, it’s no wonder he gave you the brush off. It’s not like the two of you are best pals or anything. Look, what I’m trying to say is that Giles is just Giles. He’s sad and he’s upset. But other than that, he’s what he’s always been: British and uptight and sort of short-tempered if you ask him too many stupid questions. And believe me, I should know! Which means that Giles is the same old and dependable and harmless, without-any-dark-secrets guy, so give me a break with the conspiracy suspicions, will you?”

 

“Xander, I’m not saying Giles is in on some kind of evil conspiracy. And definitely not one with Spike, who doesn’t have the brains or the patience to cook something smart and clever up. But Giles “harmless and dependable,” Xander? Really?”

 

Xander wants to counter that remark with an angry and dismissive retort, but it dies on his tongue before he gets to say anything. He suddenly remembers that time when Giles left them when it felt like they needed him the most. That had been a shock. And of course there was the whole Principal Wood thing which wouldn’t make for a happy memory of Spike’s, either. Besides, although Xander doesn’t want to go there and never does so willingly, his mind shows a quick flashback of Ben lying dead on the ground, strangled to death. But although these are all bad memories, they don’t mean that Giles can’t be trusted by his friends.

 

“Okay, so Giles’s not a saint, but that just means he’s human, Angel. Emotions tend to make us act out of line once in a while. In fact, I’ve heard tell, that the same thing can be said of vampires, you know? Of course Giles isn’t hiding Spike from you or from anyone. Especially not now, that Buffy’s dead. I mean, what would be the point?”

 

“I’m not saying that he’s hiding Spike. I’m just saying, that I think he knows something,” Angel says through gritted teeth.

 

Xander shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly. He clears his throat.

 

“Angel, listen to me for a sec. Have you ever considered that maybe Spike doesn’t wanna be found? I mean, sure – like you said, you don’t get rid of him easily and it’s true, he tends to stick around whether you want him to or not. But if I learned anything about the guy back in Sunnydale, it’s that Spike’s capable of change. After all, that’s what made him go get his soul back, right? 

 

Angel murmurs something, which Xander can’t quite make out.

 

“That’s pretty human behavior for a vampire, actually,” Xander continues. “I don't think I've met many vampires capable of changing their ways all by themselves, you know? So we've got to do with this weird vampire who basically acts like a human sometimes, right?" 

 

More disgruntled sounds from Angel. 

 

"I’m no specialist in vampire psychology, but I do know a thing or two about humans. Thing is, we need things to change once in a while. Just to be able to go on living. Suddenly something happens and you just know that you gotta do something different or else you’ll end up wishing you were dead twenty years from now. Or deader in your case. You just need to walk out the metaphorical door, you know? Maybe that’s what happened that night? Spike had been arguing with you one too many times or feeling like he'd been saving one too many ungrateful, pimpled So-Cal kids and he needed out.”

 

Angel makes another sound, which pretty much sounds like a bear in pain and makes Xander wince a bit in sympathy. He sucks his teeth. He knows all of this has got to hurt the guy. After all, Angel isn’t humanoid in the same way that Spike was. He doesn’t eat food or watch soaps or sci-fi shows and he doesn’t change his ways or opinions unless someone forces him to. And he’s not used to being the one left back and all alone. That someone important to him would choose to walk out on him and not the other way around has got to be a totally new experience to Angel. Whereas guys like Xander and Spike have known rejection like this all their lives and wouldn't find it so hard to accept. While he doesn't want to be a jerk, Xander can’t quite stop the feeling of petty satisfaction, but he does try to keep it down. He's kinda glad vampires can't smell emotions via the phone. 

 

But then Angel growls. “Of course, he’s capable of change. I know that! But I’ve also known him much longer than you have, and the thing about Spike is that he doesn’t do well on his own! And I'm all he's got! He’s…” And Angel snorts a little as if he’s about to say something utterly ridiculous. “He’s sort of a people person, actually, only he - we - don't know that many people anymore.”

 

Spike, a people person? Well, maybe he is, Xander silently concedes. And for what it’s worth, Xander owes Spike a little help if he really needs it for saving the world and everything. But it will have to wait. Right now, he wants to go back to sleep and end this godawful night.

 

“Angel, I’m staying at an inn together with Giles as we speak. Willow was worried about him because he’s been acting pretty un-Gilesy for a while, ever since Buffy died. But I can tell you this much: I’ve had a totally normal meal with him tonight and I truly don’t believe that he’s hiding anything from you or from anyone else. Like I said, Giles is suffering from grief, and anger and self-loathing and that’s it. Besides, if he was hiding something, he’d probably have a good reason for doing so. 

 

Another non-committal unhappy noise sounds from Angel’s throat. Xander is actually beginning to feel a bit sorry for the vampire. 

 

“You know what – I’ll talk to Giles tomorrow. See if he knows something. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be subtle.”


	4. Chapter 4

Part 16

 

Xander wakes up some hours later. 

 

Bleary-eyed, he goes out into the bathroom to do his business. He has a too short, too cold shower. Dressing, he glances at the alarm clock. It’s almost 9:30, which means that he better hurry if he wants to have any breakfast. Of course, Giles isn’t in the restaurant this late. No one is really, but Xander doesn’t mind eating alone. The waiter eyes him as he leaves. Clearly, breakfast isn’t usually served after 9.30 but the man is too polite to try and stop Xander from hoisting cold eggs and ditto toast onto his plate from the sad leftovers of the buffet table. 

 

It’s been overcast since Xander arrived and it’s been raining during last night but today the clouds are breaking up and there is even a hint of sunshine. He and Giles go for a walk in town. There is not a lot of activity happening, but the town got its fair share of pubs and shops. They don’t enter any of them but simply stride along the sidewalks not talking but relaxing and enjoying the fresh air. There is a nice atmosphere to this town. It looks cared for. It’s Sunday, so there aren’t many cars driving around which is a good thing as Xander keeps forgetting that people drive in the wrong side of the road. The sky is getting darker as they walk, but all things considered, it is pretty decent spring weather for this part of the world. The smell of wet soil from the downpour earlier this morning is rich and tickles his nose in a pleasant way. When they reach a small park, they enter it and Xander sits down on one of the wooden benches and Giles sits down on the one opposite his, but only after removing the last stubborn droplets of rain from the wooden surface. Xander forgot about that and can sense how his pants are getting slightly wet. That will look a bit embarrassing when he gets back up again. But as his body heats up the wet spots, he forgets about it and takes a look around. There are some rose bushes budding with almost flowers and some green hedge plants cut in artsy shapes placed in orderly rows behind them. A few ducks swim in a small artificial pond. 

 

“This is a really nice place,” Xander says. 

 

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

 

“Did I tell you, that Angel called me?” 

 

Giles leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. “Really?” he asks. 

 

“Yeah. Took me by surprise, too. He was calling about Spike.”

 

Giles purses his lips and frowns.

 

“It seems like I’m the only one who doesn’t know that Bleach Boy didn’t exactly stay dead after Sunnydale,” Xander says and he tries, but doesn’t quite manage to leave out a note of disappointment in his voice. Then again, he really doesn’t want to. He is goddamn disappointed, after all.

 

“Aah,” Giles says and moves in his seat.

 

“Don’t! Just don’t, OK, Giles? So, Angel calls me and tells me, that he’s looking for Spike. Apparently, the two of them have been staying together hunting demons for years. I can’t exactly picture the two of them as friends, but I guess they do have a lot in common so it kinda makes sense.”

 

Giles doesn’t reply, just scowls some more and looks at a spot on the ground. 

 

“But the reason why he called me wasn’t to let me in on old news, but because he thinks Spike’s here,” Xander finishes.

 

Giles bows his head and sighs and Xander holds his breath.

 

“I know,” Giles finally says in a very low voice. He looks up at Xander. 

 

“Angel called me some weeks ago and asked me about the very same thing, Xander. I told him that I have no idea where Spike is. I haven’t seen him since Sunnydale, either. But… And I supposed this is why you bring this up in the first place, it is true, that I knew that Spike was resurrected years ago.” 

 

Giles straightens his back and looks Xander in the eye. There is no sign of deceit in the steady gray gaze. Only weary resignation and perhaps a hint of an apology can be detected, but that might be wistful thinking on Xander’s part. 

 

“Is it true that Willow knows about Spike being back too?” he asks before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer. The question makes Giles remove his glasses and start fidgeting with them. 

 

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes,” he says after a few moments. 

 

“But you must understand that she didn’t know until after Andrew had been sent to LA to retrieve Dana. Andrew found out Spike was alive and upon his return, he was quite adamant, that Spike wanted no one to know of his resurrection. As it happens, at the time Willow was staying with me, as you may recall.” 

 

Giles looks up at Xander who merely shrugs.

 

“At first, before she was properly medicated, Dana kept mentioning a blond, male vampire whom she’d met in LA. Apparently, she’d cut off his hands before she was caught.” 

 

This news makes Xander jerk his head up to stare at Giles, eye wide open.

 

“Quite,” Giles agrees. “One minute she would happily tell you that she’d maimed the blond, bad man and the next moment, she was regretting hurting the slayer’s champion as she would refer to him. If you knew Spike at all, you wouldn’t have been in doubt as to precisely whom she was referring to, even though she never mentioned him by name. And Andrew going beet red was another crystal clear clue. In other words, there really was no way for Willow not to find out that Spike had returned.” Giles grimaces and puts his glasses back on. 

 

“Buffy had gone off to Sweden with a group of Slayers just prior to Andrew’s and the other slayers’ return from LA. There was an emergency situation involving a group of very organized Nøkkers who had taken up playing their violins around Gamla Stan. Fortunately, Buffy dispersed of them quite easily, but at the time, it was quite a concern, as you might imagine.” 

 

While organized fiddle players is a frightening thought, Xander fails to see how they could ever be considered slayer business, but hey, musical demons can be surprisingly dangerous, so he nods and keeps any questions to himself. 

 

“In the meantime, a proper home was found for Dana and the council has hired some excellent psychiatrists and PTSD counsellors who have helped her back to functioning normally or as close to normal as she will ever get. The three of us, Andrew, Willow and I discussed the situation regarding Spike and in the end, we decided to respect Spike’s wishes to remain out of Buffy’s life. The band of slayers who had accompanied Andrew never met Spike and were all but five stationed in the US. We asked all of them to keep Dana’s rantings confidential. After all, it was a surprisingly mature decision of Spike to make. And it was the right one which we all acknowledged and respected.” 

 

Xander can easily understand why Giles would support the idea of keeping Spike away from Buffy. But after what went on between the two of them in the end, he can’t find himself able to agree with it. He remembers how much Buffy mourned Spike. She didn’t talk much about it and he had his own loss to deal with but he could tell all the same.Who’s to say if Buffy would have started dating Spike had he returned to her, but she would have been happier knowing that he had survived. But it is too late now and Xander wants to kick Spike and Giles both. 

 

And then there’s Willow. Willow was very dependent on Giles for a while. She still is in many ways and Xander knows that it would have taken very little convincing on Giles’ side to persuade her into “seeing reason.” It hurts to be left out on something this important but if she could keep it a secret from Buffy, she could keep it a secret from him. 

 

Angel may be justifiably worried about Spike, but there is no reason to suspect Giles of keeping anything back. After all, what Giles has just told Xander fits perfectly with what Angel has told him, especially the part about Spike not wanting Buffy to find out that he’d come back. What it all boils down to is that there is nothing that suggests that Giles isn’t telling Xander the truth. 

 

 

Part 17

 

 

Which is why his decision to go out to Giles’s house two days later really can’t be logically explained. 

 

Maybe it’s the crappy nights he’s had since coming here constantly tossing and turning and full of weird dreams. Or maybe it’s simply boredom. 

 

One thing is certain; he is pretty sure, he is being an idiot. After all, this is Giles and not some nut sack crazy man and why would Giles try and hide anything from Xander in the first place? But for what it’s worth, he still decides to pay the house a visit. He tries to convince himself that it’s mostly just to enjoy the local scenery but he is not fooling anyone. Giles went to work this morning and won’t find out. There was some kind of emergency going on at the council and they needed him to come in right away. Furthermore he told Xander not to expect him back before late in the evening. So even if this visit is nosy and intruding as hell, Giles will never know and where is the harm in that, right?

 

Xander books a cab and again for no good reason, at least none that he can explain other than an odd sense of premonition, he tells the driver to drop him off about a half a mile before Giles’ property. He has got his cell phone with him so he can always get a cab later. The driver clearly thinks that Xander is crazy wanting to be dropped off right in the middle of nowhere. Xander can’t really blame him as he watches the car leave among the foggy hills and gray skies. The weather is chilly, but despite being completely overcast, it doesn’t rain. Yet. 

 

He’s dressed practically with layers of warm clothing and a raincoat. His hiking boots are perfect for a brisk walk up hills and along wet ditches, too. Living in Northern Europe has taught him a thing or two about rain, after all. 

 

Xander begins walking towards Giles’ home in a steady pace. The country side is eerily pretty being wrapped in whitish morning fog. Only a few houses can be seen from along the roadside, but a couple of horses grass in a corral whose fence runs along the road. They turn out to be pretty curious and come trotting over to study Xander more closely with their pretty brown eyes before snorting loudly in disdain and running away, bucking a few times. A few sheep can be seen farther away. It’s all very idyllic and very, very English, he thinks and silently curses himself for thinking so, as it immediately begins to rain to add more authenticity. As he moves up the small hill eventually leading downhill again on the other side to Giles’s home, he pauses just before he reaches the top and slows down. As soon as he is able to see the house, he gasps and steps back again a few feet. Giles’ car is parked out in front of the house.

 

Xander’s heart pounds wildly in his chest. Suddenly, he regrets carrying nothing else but his trusty old friend, the stake. Giles has obviously lied to him about going to the council this morning. Angel’s words of worry ring inside his head, drowned out by Dream Buffy’s warning: “Don’t trust a word Giles says, just go get Spike the hell out of there. And Xander… be careful.” 

 

All things considered this is a very shiny omen of bad news for the X man. 

 

Fuck.

 

All right. There is nothing else to it. He has to go down there. Despite his fears, he feels ridiculous as he sneaks down to the house zig-zagging from tree to tree, but only a fool wouldn’t fear a trained watcher, and Xander is no fool. Not a total one, anyway. 

 

The front door is closed, but not locked as he very, very carefully pushes the handle down and opens it. He’s more than just a little bit relieved when the door doesn’t make any telltale sounds. He swallows and licks his lips before quietly entering the narrow hallway. He pushes the door closed again and moves to the side. There’s no furniture to hide behind, but it feels somewhat safer to lean up against a wall. He stands there trying to decide what to do next. Should he simply call out for Giles? After all, sneaking in like this might end up with Giles mistaking him for a burglar and wouldn’t that be ironic? He wants to call out. He really, really does, but once again, he gets an unsettling gut feeling of fear and he decides against it. Instead, he stands completely still. He listens hard, straining his ears for any sounds at all and then he hears some. It’s the sound of someone moving around. The sound is coming from upstairs. The floors above him creak some more and then stop. OK. Giles is upstairs which is a relief as Xander isn’t quite prepared to meet him just yet. He glances into the next room. It’s the kitchen. And then his heart stops. 

 

On the kitchen counter lies an empty blood bag. There is no way it can be anything else. After all, he’s seen plenty like it before. As in a trance, he walks over to the fridge. Opens the door and sees bag after bag of blood lying neatly stacked on the shelves. He feels his own blood draining from his face and his one eye briefly but literally sees stars from the dizzying shock of it all. 

 

As soon as he has calmed down, he resolutely grabs his stake and walks carefully back to the hallway and starts ascending the stairs to the second floor. The stairway is carpeted and he manages to make little to no noise at all. He stops as soon as he is at the top of the stairway and looks around the narrow corridor. There is no one here but him, thank merciful Zeus. The walls are bare except for a narrow closet door at the end of the hallway, two doors to the left and three to the right. Extra bedrooms, he knows. Light comes down from two small rooflights. He stands very still and listens. And there it is again: A floorboard that creaks and then Giles’s muffled voice. It seems to come from the last door to the left. Not surprisingly. That is Giles’s bedroom. 

 

As he approaches, the voice continues. The sound is subdued by the door and he can’t make out any of the words, but it is definitely Giles speaking. Xander can’t hear anybody else joining in on the conversation and feels both unnerved and oddly relieved by that. As long as he hasn’t seen it with his own eye, there’s no one in there but Giles, right? Certainly not a vampire gone missing.

 

His hands are clammy and he has never been more loathe to continue what he is doing, but he moves on. As soon as he is in front of the door, he leans forward and gingerly puts his ear to it. 

 

“…should end this,” Giles’ subdued voice says. Xander frowns and presses his ear closer to the door. “I should have done so months ago, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Selfish, I know. ”

 

A sound from bedsprings giving in to added weight can be heard. And then … Is that a groan? Xander’s heart jumps and picks up speed. His blood seems to run free inside his chest, and it surges through his veins making a loud, pulsatile sound of whoomph-whoomph in his ears and he has to strain really hard in order to be able to hear anything but his pulse and his own rapid breathing. 

 

“I know you would have wanted me to dust you months ago. And I know that you’re often lucid despite the drugs. And I’m sorry about that. And just so you know, this blood hasn’t been laced. This is the last meal I’ll give you. It’s all over now. But I can’t say that I’m sorry I haven’t ended this much earlier, because I really am not.” 

 

Again, the bed springs give a bit before Giles continues, “Still, Xander’s coming here has made it clear to me that this can’t go on. You need to cease existing. But for now, I’ll – “ 

 

Giles doesn’t get to end his sentence because Xander bursts into the room, slamming the door wide open, before he can think of anything else to do. He sees a half-naked man, kneeling on a huge bed between someone’s bent and chained, bare legs. As Xander shouts, “What the fuck is going on?” the kneeling man – Giles! – shrieks and rolls off of the bed, spilling blood from a mug in his hand in the process. Xander stares at Giles and wishes he’d never seen him like this. Wishes he’d never seen anyone like this. Giles drops the cup on the floor and blood splatters all over his bare feet and Xander wants to vomit at the sight, at the smell, at everything.

 

His head whips back to the bed and he sees... oh, God… Spike. Of course, it would have to be Spike, but to see him for real is something else entirely. Xander’s mouth falls open in abject horror. Spike is naked, but unlike Giles, he isn’t able to move at all. His legs are spread and bent and chained to a metal rack, which seems to be attached to the bed. His arms are similarly cuffed to the rack. His neck is secured with a wide iron collar. His body is emaciated and pale and as Xander’s eye inevitably turns downward, something is… inside him. He has been gagged with what looks like a metal bit strapped tightly around his head with thick leather straps. Xander’s vision blacks out once more and he sways a bit on his feet. It’s too much and all he can do is simply stare. Spike’s eyes are wide open and won’t leave Xander’s face. Spike seems as frozen in his tracks as is Xander. Then suddenly Spike groans and makes a desperate, gurgling sound, before he throws back his head and arches up his body as much as he can. The chains rattle as he pulls at them and he roars, clearly struggling to get free. The commotion makes Xander snap out of his stupor and he turns back towards where Giles is standing. “Giles, what the hell?” he begins, but before he can finish asking the question, Giles, who is now wearing pants, shoves him back hard into the wall and takes off. 

 

Xander’s head and shoulder take most of the sudden impact from the push, and he drops his stake, which falls clattering to the floor and rolls under the bed. He loses his footing and lands on his butt. But he quickly recovers and rolls in under the bed to retrieve his stake. Getting back up on his feet and quickly glancing at the still struggling figure on the bed, he takes after Giles. 

 

He almost slips on the throw carpet in the hallway as he turns sharply to run down the stairs he’s just come up from, but he manages to grab on to the railing before taking a nasty fall. Giles is nowhere to be seen, but he stops and listens, and then hears running steps somewhere. Definitely not from this set of stairs though. Then he notices that the narrow closet door at the end of the hallway isn’t a closet at all, but an entrance leading to a dark stairwell.

 

“Giles!” he shouts. “I don’t want to hurt you! Fuck, man! I just want to talk to you! Help you! You need help, Giles!”

 

There is no reply and he doesn’t know if Giles is still inside the house or not. He can’t hear any more steps. He doesn’t want to run blindly down the stairwell. His head is spinning. He wants to catch Giles but what the hell will he do with him? Beat him? Scold him? Shake him? What the hell is he supposed to do? Briefly, he considers whether Giles will return carrying a weapon of some kind, but he instantly dismisses the idea. He just can’t believe that Giles would go so completely crazy that he would choose to hurt Xander, too. Giles is like a goddamn father to him. To all of them for fuck’s sake. He’s a good guy. Or supposed to be a good guy. An image of Giles leaning over Spike’s fixated body flitters unwantedly through Xander’s mind. The sight of Giles’s bare back magnifies a hundred times inside his head and he… Just – Can’t – Deal with it. 

 

He collapses to the floor, landing hard on his hands and knees, and dry heaves. He gags and makes a few involuntary retching sounds. It hurts like hell and it takes a few seconds before he is able to pull himself back together just enough to get back up on his unsteady feet. He staggers back towards the bedroom slamming into the walls as if drunk. He doesn’t want to go back there, but what choice does he have? He can’t leave Spike like that. 

 

Before he enters the room, he takes a couple of deep, steadying breaths. He knows what he has to do next and he can’t allow his stupid emotions to take over. Right now, it’s all about doing what’s right and he clenches his teeth so hard it hurts, trying to focus on the task at hand. He draws in one last, deep inhalation boxer style like, shakes his head, and enters the room.

 

Part 18

 

Spike isn’t struggling in his bonds anymore. He looks worn out and small. Blood is running down his wrists. The sight makes Xander wince inwardly. 

 

Spike is breathing heavily trough his nose in the aftermath of his recent struggles, and he stares wearily at Xander through hooded eyes, deeply sunken into their eye sockets. 

 

Xander bites his lip trying to stop the nervous tick that has emerged out of nowhere, and slowly approaches the bed. Their eyes lock for a few seconds until Spike closes his and turns his head away. His skinny chest moves up and down rapidly, his ribcage showing through the skin in a sickening way. Any doubt dissipates. Spike needs help and now. 

 

Xander immediately sets to work. He begins by unfastening the buckle behind Spike’s head. Then he removes the metal bit carefully from Spike’s stretched lips. As he is working on it, Spike cautiously turns his head back towards Xander in order to give Xander better access. The look in Spike’s eyes is guarded and Xander really can’t blame him for not trusting anyone right now.

 

The corners of Spike’s mouth are red and sore and look slightly inflamed. There is a metal flange welded onto the bit that must have been pressing down on Spike’s tongue. The flange is long and Xander is certain, that he would have been gagging convulsively if this monstrosity had been forced into his mouth. He stands with it for a millisecond, eyeing it with disgust and disbelief before flinging the damn thing as far away as possible. It hits the wall with a clang and the floor with a clunk.

 

Spike moans faintly in relief. Then he sighs and works his jaw, before letting his tongue run around the inside of his mouth and teeth and then gingerly letting it touch the damaged corners of his mouth with its wet, pink tip wetting his dry lips. 

 

“Thanks,” he rasps and looks briefly back up at Xander.

 

Xander can’t quite manage to speak so he simply nods. He bends forward and studies the iron collar around Spike’s neck. It’s locked with a small padlock. A sturdy looking chain is running through the padlock’s shackle. The chain itself is secured to the metal rack running along both sides of Spike’s body. Xander follows the chain to the rack with his fingers and to his immense relief he can see that he won’t need a key to get it off the rack. The lock system is simple. A thick bolt has been inserted into one of the chain links. The bolt has then been put through a hole drilled into the metal rail. On the underside of the rail, it is secured with a thick nut. All he has to do is screw the nut off and pull out the bolt from the slot. Soon the collar is no longer attached to the rack. Of course, it is still locked around Spike’s neck, but they will have to deal with that later. Main thing is that Spike is free to move. Xander proceeds to work on the iron bands around Spike’s wrists which are fastened to the rack in the same simple manner. Impossible for Spike to loosen, but easy for any bystander. 

 

In the midst of releasing Spike from the rack, Xander falters. What if there is a valid reason why Spike is chained up like this? What if Spike hasn’t got his soul anymore? 

 

He hesitates. But by now, both of the vampire’s hands are freed, and Xander is on his knees working on a skinny leg. Spike sure doesn’t look like an evil, soulless monster right now and he figures that if Spike had wanted to kill him, he’d have done so by now. On the other hand, who is to tell? Then he decides to shrug off his uneasiness. He glances back up at Spike. The vampire is staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. But maybe he can feel Xander’s eye on him because he turns his head slightly down and looks at Xander with eyes that look nearly black in the gloom. Bottomless pools of stark desolation, glistening in the dim light. Those eyes do not belong to a soulless monster. 

 

Christ. 

 

Xander leans over and grabs Spike’s hand and gently squeezes it. He doesn’t say anything but holds on. Spike’s cool hand twitches a bit in his grasp. For a few moments, they stay like this, immobile. Then Spike lifts his head a little off the bed. 

 

“Please, Xander. You’ve gotta hurry.” 

 

His voice is hoarse and urgent. The effort of speaking seems to exhaust him and he closes his eyes and lets his head drop back onto the mattress, sighing deeply. 

 

“I know. I’m almost there,” he says and lets go of Spike’s hand. 

 

Spike opens his eyes once more and looks at him blearily before nodding slightly. 

 

Xander starts working on the shackle around the vampire’s bent legs and winces as Spike can’t quite manage to stifle a moan as one leg is slowly becoming unfettered. Xander scowls as he watches Spike gradually straightening his leg and laying in flat out on the bed. Then he frees the other leg and as with the first one, tries to support it as Spike stretches this one out too. The vampire pants a bit and then, slowly, but with determined look, pushes himself back up into a near sitting position and leans his back hard up against the headboard. 

 

“Xander, you need to get out of here,” he wheezes. “I don’t know what he might do now that you’ve seen… this. He’s… he’s not like he used to be. He’s dangerous. Completely off his rockers.”

 

Spike glances out towards the covered window and continues, “I can’t go outside ‘cause of the daylight, but at least I’ll have a fighting chance to defend myself. Or I’ll die trying, anyhow. But you got to leave! Now!”

 

Xander looks at the wasted body before him and somehow doubts very much, that Spike is in any condition to defend himself, unshackled or not. 

 

“No, I won’t leave you. I don’t know what the fuck is going on here or what the fuck is wrong with Giles, but I’m not leaving you here to fend for yourself. I mean, look at you!”

 

Spike opens his mouth to form some kind of heated and – probably – stupid protest, but Xander shuts him up with a firm, “I’ll stay! End of story.” Spike growls but slumps back wordlessly on his side. 

 

Spike is right. The daylight is a problem, but it’s raining outside so it is not their biggest one. But they can’t leave right now, no matter what.

 

“Are you hungry,” Xander asks in a gentler tone of voice. “Did you get anything to eat before I came?”

 

“Haven’t fed for days till now,“ Spike replies. “Haven’t fed properly for a long time. ‘M bloody weak. He.. he’d brought some blood for me today. Said, it’s un-drugged. Said he’s going to end it all today. Can’t see why he would lie about something like that.”

 

Xander shudders at the chilling words. 

 

There’s a thermos on the dresser and Xander unscrews the lid and peers down at its contents. For once, his one good eye is perfect. The container is nearly full of blood and he grimaces at the cloying, slightly metallic stench. But it’s not like he hasn’t smelled warmed pig’s blood before and Spike definitely needs the stuff whether Xander thinks it’s gross or not. 

 

“There’s still blood left in this. Can you hold it yourself you think, or do you need my help?” 

 

“There isn’t bloody time!” Spike hisses.

 

“Listen, I can’t magically zap us out of here, and I can’t carry you as far as we’re gonna have to walk. You need to get some strength back if you’re gonna be able to stand, let alone run! So eat! Please, all right? In the meantime, I’ll call for some help.”

 

Spike glares at him. With a somewhat stubborn-looking face and a flexing jaw, he reaches wordlessly for the canteen. Xander half smiles and hands it to him, but as soon as Spike tries to hold it by himself, his fingers fumble and begin to shake. Xander quickly reaches out before more blood is spilled and grabs the canteen with one hand and places the other one on Spike’s shoulder trying to steady both vampire and beverage. He watches quietly as Spike drinks in long, deep gulps, interspersed with a few, hungry gasps. 

 

“Do you want some more?” he asks when Spike lets go of the thermos. It’s still nearly half-full.

 

Spike licks his lips and shakes his head. Xander places the thermos on the floor, and reaches across Spike’s torso and pulls over the covers from the other side of the bed. He tugs Spike’s body in loosely for no other reason than that it feels right. Spike clutches the sheets to his chest. For some reason, he looks even more lost and fragile covered, which makes Xander scowl unhappily. He’d never thought it possible, but he feels truly sorry for Spike. Knowing the guy, pity is the last thing, he’d want though so he simply sits down besides Spike and calls the cab company. “It’ll be thirty minutes,” he’s told and he thanks and hangs up.

 

“Cab?” Spike asks incredulously behind his back. “Don’t you have a car? Or a bloody cavalry to help you get out of here? There’s a madman around. A dangerous one!”

 

“No, sorry. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Well, maybe I did sorta think you might be here, but… look, I’ll tell you all about it later, alright?” He turns around to look at Spike. The vampire is laboriously pulling his legs back up into a folded position and, with a resigned sigh, reaches down between the sheets covering them. 

 

Xander blanches and turns his back to Spike again, needing to give him some privacy while he – probably – removes the... fuck. 

 

OK, he needs to do something else than just sit here. Because this, with the nakedness, and the helplessness, and the sexual abuse…This is totally unwanted grounds and it makes his stomach turn. He’s gotten far too much info on the molested condition of Spike’s body to last him a lifetime. And he’s pretty sure, Spike agrees. So right now – this means finding some clothes for Spike to wear. 

 

He walks over to the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom and peers inside it. Pants and shirts are neatly arranged on hangers. Sweaters and socks are folded and carefully placed on shelves, along with a few t-shirts and two stacks of briefs. Obviously, these clothes belong to Giles, but some clothes are better than none at all. He chews his lip as he contemplates which of the pants might fit Spike best. Giles doesn’t seem to have a set of sweatpants which sucks as size wouldn’t matter as much. But then he notices a closed cardboard box at the bottom of the closet. The box seems out of place, and he picks it up and opens it. Inside the box lies Spike’s leather duster, neatly folded and still smelling faintly of cigarettes and whisky. He smiles in satisfaction when a thunk of something heavy and rubbery hits the floor behind him. The sound is followed by a low groan of relief. Xander grits his teeth. Clothes. He needs to find more clothes. He takes the duster out of the box and returns to the bed and places it next to Spike. He doesn’t know what to say, so he only nods shortly towards it, and returns to the closet. He crouches down and finds a black duffel bag shoved in at the bottom back corner and pulls it out. A quick study of the contents tell him that it’s Spike’s belongings alright. He removes a pair of folded, black jeans and a faded grey t-shirt from the bag and returns to the bedside. 

 

Spike’s joints aren’t used to moving freely but he manages to stand up on his own. Or nearly on his own as he has to lean up against the bedside while Xander does his best to be gentle while pulling the t-shirt over Spike’s head. Then he helps Spike pull the pants on. Spike doesn’t seem to register too much around him right now anyway, and Xander manages to button the pants without too much stupid or awkward movements on his side. Then it’s time to put the duster back on and once that’s done, Spike is back to looking almost normal again. Except for the two-toned hair and greyish pallor to his angular face. And his bare, white feet. 

 

It’s probably taken them about ten minutes to get this far. Maybe longer. Xander would have liked to call the police instead of a cab but local law enforcements aren’t into the whole supernatural gig and introducing them to undead victims is likely to get you into more trouble than not. He is grateful that Giles hasn’t decided to return and kind of scared about it, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 19

 

As they begin their slow descent, with Spike leaning heavily up against him, Xander’s pulse begins to pick up speed. He has grabbed a blanket for safety’s sake although Spike’s duster and the wet weather will probably protect the vampire from getting toast. He’s worried about Giles. They haven’t heard any sounds from below since Giles took off and he hopes to God, that the man will just stay the hell away from them. 

 

He briefly contemplates calling Willow, but instantly dismisses the idea. She is too far away to be of any help anyway. He’ll call her friend at the council instead once they are safely inside the cab.

 

As he opens the main door, he’s relieved to see that the rain isn’t just drizzling, but is steadily pouring down. Spike nods at Xander’s questioning look, and together they scramble outside.

 

Xander turns his head, frantically looking for any possible maniac watchers in the hiding. Now more than ever, he misses having two good eyes. But nobody makes like Rambo and parts of him feels relief and other parts irrationally worry about Giles’s wellbeing. Another part just wants to kick the man’s ass. 

 

“Oh no, you don’t!” 

 

With a hiss, Spike lets go of Xander. With some kind of preternatural last reserves, he speeds away towards a group of trees some hundred feet from where they are standing. Xander follows the direction of Spike’s route and then he sees it; Giles is hanging from a tree, still swaying a bit to and fro. Xander drops to his knees. 

 

A ladder is leaning up against the stem, but Spike doesn’t stop to use it. Xander watches dumbly as Spike jumps up the tree, all fangy, using nails turned into claws for leverage. It’s all very fast and fully animal like. The vampire severs the rope with a gnarly bite and a tearing twist of his head. Giles’ body hits the grass hard. Xander can see how the face is dark and dead looking. Spike spits out bits of rope and is back in his human face and on the ground, crouching next to Giles.

 

“Xander! Get over here. You know CPR! Don’t just stand there for fuck’s sake!” 

 

The words startle him into motion and he gets up and runs as fast as his legs will carry him towards the two figures. Once there, together they manage to get the tight noose off of Giles’ neck. Giles’ skin is still soft and warm, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing. Xander remembers reading or hearing somewhere, that if you attempt suicide by hanging yourself, you most likely won’t die right away. Usually, the fall is not deep or violent enough and you will die strangling instead of napping your neck. This means that there’s still a chance that Giles is alive – Spike seems to think so the way he is shouting at Xander to get a bloody move on. The training from his time on the swim team and his magic military stunt kicks in and he begins to perform CPR on Giles. 

 

“Rupert, you self-righteous, sick bastard! Wake up, you bloody wanker,” Spike screams and accompanies each word with a smack to Giles’ head, which makes what Xander is trying to do really difficult. But suddenly Giles gasps and rattles and though he’s not entirely conscious, he breathes. 

 

“Yes!” Spike crowes. He leans over Giles and grabs the man by the hairs on his head and shakes him. 

 

“You miserable bugger! You bloody well tried to run away from this? I won’t let you! You owe me. You owe her!”

 

Xander isn’t sure that Giles understands or hears any of what Spike is yelling at him and in any case, he is not able to respond, not with the way Spike now has a firm hold on Giles’s shoulders and is shoving him back down into the ground in time with each shouted syllable. The ground is muddy and Xander doesn’t try to stop Spike. He would probably have ripped out Giles’ throat by now if he were Spike so thrashing Giles doesn’t seem unreasonable.

 

Xander backs a few steps away from the scene and takes out his cell phone. It’s time to get some professional assistance. He cancels the cab. The cab lady sounds pretty put-down and more or less cuts him off mid speak. But he can’t care about a cab company’s hurt feelings or lost fare right now. Then he calls Inez. When he is done talking to her, Spike has stopped shoving Giles around and is sitting with his back turned towards them curled in on himself, hands placed on his head. Giles is lying on the ground in a miserable heap. His breathing is ragged and there is a nasty looking rope burn around his neck. His face and hair are covered in mud and a bit of blood is trickling out from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are open and they seem to be able to focus which is pretty impressive all things considered. He doesn’t move, but simply lies gasping and staring up into the gray skies, blinking water out of his eyes in short intervals. 

 

By now, Xander is soaking wet and freezing. The adrenaline rush is over and fatigue has set in big time. Spike is shaking and his hands run around in his hair, and his neck, and his shoulders as he rocks to and fro. 

 

Xander quickly picks up the abandoned rope. “Giles, the council people are coming for us and I’m not gonna stay out here while we wait. But I can’t have you walking around freely, so I need you to sit up.”

 

Silently, Giles complies. Xander quickly ties the man’s hands tightly behind his back. His jaw hurts from grinding his teeth together.

 

“Spike, let’s go back inside. It’ll be at least two hours before they’ll be here if not longer and I’m freezing my butt off.”

 

Spike stops his movements. “You go. ‘M’not staying inside with that monster.”

 

“Look, I’ll chain him up in the basement. He won’t bother you, I promise.”

 

Spike glances backwards at Xander with wide eyes. But then he frowns and he shakes his head. 

 

“‘M not up for walking just now. An’ I’m not going back into that bloody house no matter what. You go an’ take the wanker with you.”

 

Giles isn’t exactly steady on his feet, and it takes them a little while to reach the house. Once they are inside, he sits Giles down on a stool. 

 

“Do I need to tie you to a chair or are you gonna stay here while I go grab some stuff?”

 

Giles closes his eyes and shakes his head. Xander hangs his wet jacket on the banister in the hallway and opens the outside door to check on Spike. It’s not pouring down like before, but Spike has moved from his previous spot and is sitting up against a tree trying to get some shelter from the raindrops. His hands are in his pockets and his knees are drawn up closely to his chest. His eyes seem to be closed, but Xander can’t be certain because of the distance. But what he can tell though is that Spike is shivering. 

 

He turns and looks at Giles. 

 

“Where’s the key for the, and I can’t believe I have to say this, collar?” 

 

At first Giles doesn’t reply or move, and Xander feels anger rising. Then Giles suddenly stirs. He clears his throat and winces from the obvious pain it causes him. In a voice sounding like something heavy being dragged slowly over gravel on concrete, he croaks, “It’s in the basement… first door… to the right… work table.” 

 

“OK. Don’t move or I swear, I’ll… Look, just don’t move.”

 

Giles doesn’t respond, but he looks about ready to keel over any minute and Xander hurries downstairs. He quickly finds the small and neat workshop. The tools are old, but all kept in good condition and neatly arranged like you would expect in this home. On the workbench lies a single, small key next to some plastic boxes containing nuts and bolts and whatnots. He slips the key into his pocket and on a whim, opens the drawers in a wooden cabinet and finds what else he needs. Then he hurries back upstairs, rattling and clinking, taking two steps at a time. 

 

“Come with me,” he says.

 

With a weary look, Giles gets up from his seat. It’s awkward for him because of his hands being tied behind his back and he sways a bit. Xander grabs his arm and they begin to move. Xander steers Giles outside towards the stable behind the garage. As he opens the door to the old boxes, the smell of hay and horses still lingers in the air. The inside is a bit chilly, but it’s dry in here. There aren’t any horses in the building anymore, for which Xander is grateful. He’s not exactly what you would call a farm boy and he doesn’t really like to be too close to big animals. They are all very nice to look at, but one end will bite you and the other end is sure to kick your ass. 

 

He chains Giles up to one of the iron rings, using a set of chains, which he found in the workshop. For good measure, he yanks the chain a few times. The ring in the wall doesn’t budge and the chains are short enough that Giles can’t somehow twist around and try to hurt himself with them. Or he hopes not. There’s a wooden crate in the corner of the stable and he pushes it over for Giles to sit on. He’s not going to stay and watch over Giles. He swallows and goes back outside. Next step is to retrieve an icy vampire and get him back into a warm, comfy room, stink or no stink. As far as Xander knows, vampires aren’t really supposed to feel temperatures much. And if they do, they are not supposed to suffer from them whether they are hot or cold. But Spike’s always been a weirdly human vampire, breathing except when sleeping, eating human food and liking stupid soaps. And Xander knows for a fact just how miserable Spike becomes when he’s hungry. Add that to what the guy has been through lately, well, he can’t have many reserves left, can he?

 

“Spike, come with me inside. I’ve left Giles chained up in the stables.”

 

“Told you, ‘m not going back in there.”

 

“I know you told me, but it’s stupid, Spike. It’s nice and warm inside, not to mention dry and there’s plenty of blood in the fridge. I’ll tug you up under a warm blanket on the couch and make you something to eat. What do you say?”

 

Spike’s lifts his hand and fingers his collar as if he has forgotten, he is wearing it. He frowns and looks even more desolate.

 

“Besides, I think it’s gonna clear up pretty soon and then you’ll fry which is worse than sitting inside a warm house.”

 

Spike swallows. “Can’t stand the bloody smell of him.”

 

“Then I’ll stay right next to you and do my very best to smell my worst, OK?”

 

Spike huffs. Xander smiles crookedly. “I have the key for your collar. Here, let me get that thing off you,” and he bends down.

 

When the collar is off and tossed far away, Xander tries again. “Come with me back inside?”

 

“Alright,” Spike sighs. “Give us a hand, will you?”

 

-

 

Spike can’t wrap his head around all that’s happened this past hour, but he tries his best anyhow. He’s out of Rupert’s bloody bondage bed. Saved by a Scooby, no less. It seems as if that can’t be right, but he can feel the truth of it in his gut. Literally, as he’s full for the first time in a long time and dressed too. The couch underneath him is soft and Harris has lit a fire in the fireplace just a few feet away. He’s draped a blanket over Spike, like he’d promised. The bloody thing reeks of Rupert. But it’s soft and the smoke clears away some of the stench, thank God. He itches for a fag. He quit smoking back in LA. He couldn’t smoke when he was a ghost, and when he turned corporeal, he’d sort of forgotten about the habit. Right now though, a fag would be glorious. Cleanse his dead lungs and nostrils of Rupert Giles, the bastard. As soon as he is out of this place, he’ll get a package and some booze and proceed to get thoroughly wasted. After that, all he’s got to do, is forget about the watcher. Put what he’s been through behind him. He can do that. He knows from past experiences that he can do that, doesn’t he? Of course, those experiences were mostly caused by evil, soulless demons and not by a sodding human who shouldn’t have… 

 

But humans do. William got his fair share of evil treatment while he was alive. And while he might have been a ponce, William got up after being taken down plenty of times. Out of stupidity or stubbornness, but whatever the reason, Spike’s made it a habit never to let anything keep him down and he won’t this time, either. 

 

Xander will take them to some hotel. He heard him mention London. Once they are there, he’ll have to find somewhere to stay. The boy has fetched him his duffel bag which rests on the floor next to the couch. In it are all of his earthly belongings. Or at least what he came to the UK with in the first place. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him to get by with. He’ll be able to pass for a reasonably normal looking guy in London’s nightlife once he’s found some new boots to wear. He’s got no money worth speaking of, but luckily he doesn’t need a room or a flat. He can sleep anywhere: Sewers, alleys, or a decent crypt if he can find one. Might have to lay low for a while until he’s strong again. He’ll be right as rain, he will. 

 

But when Xander’s hand lands between his shoulder blades and remains there, lightly patting him, he hears himself whimper, and he realizes that he’s been crying. He cringes and leans away from the human, but not entirely. The warmth and the smell of Xander feel reassuring. Which is horrible. It’s Xander Harris, for crying out loud. Bloody watcher has damn near ruined him. 

 

Wanker, he thinks miserably as he buries his head in his hands and leans back against Xander until he can feel the solid warm body along his entire side. He’s grateful when Xander puts an arm around him and tightens the grip. He is such a ponce.

 

Part 20

 

“Oh Goddess, Xander. And Spike was there? Inez said the place looked like a horror movie or… or a cheap bondage shop. Did Giles – No! Don’t answer that, I don’t’ want to know! This is horrible. I can’t believe it. Any of it.” 

 

Willow begins to cry into the phone and Xander leaves the small bedroom in their cheap hotel room to retreat into the bathroom, hoping the sound of the ventilation will block out her sobbing. 

 

“Listen Willow, Giles needs help, no question about it. I know what I saw and it wasn’t pretty whether you want to believe it or not. Giles knows the truth of what happened and as far as I’m concerned, he needs to do some penance, you know. Technically it’s not a crime to hurt a vampire, but in this case, it should be. What Giles did – was sick. Here’s the deal: Right now, I can’t imagine ever wanting to talk to him again. But because he is who he is and because he’s not being put away in a cell no matter what, we all need to find a way to move on. So if you can, I think you should come over and stay for a while. Talk to him. Support him, somehow. But first of all, he needs professional help from all kinds of experts I think. But do me a favor, Will. Don’t come rushing over here before he’s begun to realize that what he did wasn’t only despicable, it was totally, morally wrong. I need Giles to understand the difference if I’m ever going to be able to look him in the eye again. Right now, I just think he’s ashamed that he got caught and that’s not fucking good enough.” 

 

Willow is still crying. He can hear it from the way, she breathes, but she is listening. 

 

“Willow, I’m really sorry I didn’t take you seriously when you called me last month. I mean, if I had Spike would have been out of there much sooner…”

 

“How is he?”

 

“Well, not good, obviously. He wanted to be dropped off at a cemetery. Like I would just let him go all alone and without any money in the middle of nowhere on the very same day, he’d escaped from hell! Man, I tell you, that was kind of an epiphany for me. Like how much shit Spike is used to take from us. From me in particular. Because back in Sunnydale – I would have done just that; dumped him off somewhere without giving it a second thought.” 

 

“What are you gonna do?”

 

“I’m going to ask him to come back with me to Oregon. He shouldn’t be alone right now, and I don’t mind his company. Or I don’t think so. I mean, I never really got to know him all that well despite the fact that we shared a home more than once. But now… well, it’s different now. I’d like to help him out.”

 

Willows sniffles and clears her throat. 

 

“Alright Xander. I’ll talk to Inez about getting you two back home. I think it’s only fair if they help you get a vampire through customs and avoiding incineration.” 

 

Her voice has sharpened. Willow’s always at her best when she’s fixing things. She’s awesome.

 

 

Part 21

 

They are back in Oregon. Private jet, all expenses paid by the council. Cool experience. The getting picked up in a black limo wasn’t too shabby either. 

 

Spike sits on the floor in front of Xander’s fireplace. He looks small. Of course, Spike has never been big, but he’s usually really good at making you forget that fact. Right now, sitting with his knees drawn up and his arms around his legs, he looks almost tiny. It brings back memories of that time, when Spike moved into his apartment all crazy and newly ensouled. He would sit in his closet and cry or rant for hours sometimes. Or he would come bursting into Xander’s living room and fling out some nonsense before drinking Xander’s last beer or eat his chips, leaving crumbs all over. Back then, it annoyed Xander as hell. Back then, Xander was a fool. A kid not able to see or understand anything but his own problems. If it had happened now, he would have handled Spike way better. Not only had Spike been haunted by his past, he had also been manipulated by the First. No wonder, he was such a total nutcase. He is not a nutcase now, though, just miserable. But while Xander feels for him, he doesn’t know how to deal with volatile vampires. At least not when it’s a guy feeling miserable. He can’t just go over and hug Spike like he did with Willow back then, can he? 

 

Xander goes out into his kitchen and makes a cup of blood for Spike and a cup of coffee for himself. That Keurig machine is an awesome thing when you are a single guy. Or a single guy living by yourself and a vampire who was never much of a coffee drinker to begin with. It also happens to make decent cups of cocoa.

 

Spike still walks a bit stiffly, not at all strutting around like he used to do, but it’s good to see him getting visibly better physically. Xander wants him to become strong and Spikish again. It’s only been two days. It’ll take a hell of a lot longer than two days to make that happen. 

 

He returns to the living room and throws a couple of pillows and some blankets in front of the fireplace. Grabs the cups from the counter where he’s placed them and sits down next to Spike, handing him a cup of blood.

 

“Thanks,” Spike mumbles.

 

“Hey, de nada.” 

 

They sit and stare into the flames. The heat from the fire feels warm and cocooning and the sound of the crackling wood is oddly therapeutic. It’s kinda nice, actually.

 

“So, how’re you doing today?”

 

Spike doesn’t reply instantly. But then he draws in a big breath.

 

“’M feeling horrible. Smothered. Suffocating.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Xander moves to get up and out of Spike’s hair.

 

“No. Not ‘cause of you, you berk! Don’t mind... Jus’ sit down, Xander, alright? I’m ashamed, alright? I can’t believe that I was stupid enough to try an’ make amends with Rupert of all people. Like I thought I was so clever you know? That I knew what Buffy would have wanted and that I would make Rupert see it too and agree with me. Rupert’s her bloody father figure and she loved him, yeah? I should have known better than to go to him. I should have known that he’d never trust me. Because of what I am, see? To him, I’ll never be anything but a filthy thing.

 

“And he’s right, isn’t he? I may feel like I’m a real boy, but I really aren’t, am I? I’m the animated dead corpse of a man who died 150 years ago. An’ I’m not walking and talking ‘cause of some rosy red fairytale magic. No, I’m undead because of an evil, murderous demon spawned inside me by a bloodsucking, murdering, crazy, soulless bint. And this body of mine? Well, it’s not bad on the eye. I know it. I have used it often enough as bait for the unawares, haven’t I? 

 

“What I’m saying is I shouldn’t have provoked Rupert showing up like that. I knew he would be vulnerable and I knew he swung both ways. Knew he had his dark sides, too. Could always smell it on him. So for all my good intentions, all they did were ruin her bloody watcher. I’m damaged goods. Dangerous goods. It seems to me that anything I touch or care about, I end up destroying. Can’t have anything good around me or it’ll twist or die or rot. Did you know that all the people, I’ve loved, have died or suffered because of it? It’s true. So yeah, I’m suffocating, because I can’t bloody stand myself. And yet, it’ll be too easy to go out and watch the sun rise. Seems like I haven’t deserved the easy way out. No matter how little I like it I will have to go on unliving and try to do what’s right. I owe it to the world. Owe it to her. But I’m afraid to do so, because I’m nothing but bad luck.”

 

Spikes stares at Xander who’s opened his mouth. Spike shakes his head in anger. 

 

“No, don’t say a word! As for what happened in Rupert’s house, I got what I deserved, I expect. Done worse, witnessed worse tons of times without lifting a finger. But this time, I corrupted someone she loved and because of that, if she’s up there somewhere, I’ve broken her dead heart, Xander and I can’t bear it.” 

 

Spike puts down the mug hard and blood spills. He growls unhappily.

 

“Stop it, Spike. It doesn’t work like that. First off, how you can turn what happened to you, into being your fault and make it some kind of justified penance for past, soulless sins is beyond me. That’s stupid, Spike. Giles is sick! He snapped and it’s not your fault. That’s total victim blaming and I don’t go for that.”

 

Spike buries his head in his hands.

 

“Spike, listen to me. You are still Buffy’s champion. That’s who you are and who you’ll always be, and you haven’t done anything wrong in her eyes. Believe me.” 

 

“Nothing wrong? But don’t you see? If I had never shown up, Rupert’d still be normal, the evil bugger. He’d never have done what he did to me to a living human being. So, yeah, I did do something “wrong,” because none of this would have happened, if I had stayed the hell away from him. He was volatile sure, but I should have known it. He went berserk because of me and Buffy will never forgive me!” 

 

Xander hesitates for a few seconds before deciding that he might as well share this with Spike. 

 

“This is going to sound crazy, Spike. But here goes: Thing is, Buffy told me to go look for you and get you out of there, alright? It was a dream I had, when – no, don’t look away, hear me out, okay? At the time when I had this dream, I didn’t really think it was real, but crazier things have happened.”

 

Xander is aware that one nudge in the wrong direction will make Spike shatter. Well, hopefully this nudge will be in the right direction.

 

“I dreamed of her the first night, I spent at the hotel in that village close to where Giles’ house is. She… She threw a bucket of water right in my face and told me to get my butt moving because Giles was hurting you. Badly. Look, I don’t know what to believe when it comes to which God or Goddess is the “right one” or if it’s silly to discuss such a thing or not. I don’t even know if our world has our own private gods, but here’s what I do believe in: I believe in afterlife and I believe in Heaven. It’s not even a matter of faith in this case, because we all know that’s where Buffy ended up, when she first died… well, the second time she died. And I’m sure, that’s where she is now. The, I think she called them the Powers that Be had granted her a respite because you belong to her. And the dream was very specific, Spike. She told me that you were alive and that Giles had you. And that you needed my help. Now, why would I dream about you in the first place? I mean, no offense, but I’m pretty sure, I’m not on your usual dream menu, either. And why would everything in that dream turn out to be true? Well, not the whole splashing water onto my face part, that part was just a dream, but what she told me turned out to be true. All of it. Knowing what I know now, even insane troll logic suggests that she did in fact come to me that night, asking me to help you. That it wasn’t a dream. For one thing, I sure as hell had no freaking idea that you were alive. The only reason why I was in the UK was because I wanted to pay Giles a visit before I headed back home. Or actually, Willow wanted me to pay him a visit. She was worried about him and boy, was she right to be! But I gotta tell you, Spike, this dream with Buffy, it felt so real and that’s because that’s exactly what it was.

 

“And now we’re at the really important part because what I really wanna say to you is that Buffy is not broken. I think she knew what went on in Giles’s house and needless to say, she wanted it to end. But you know her. She’s tough, Spike. And what’s more, she’s forgiving. The amount of shit, her friends, yours truly included, and her boyfriends, all of them, not just you and Angel, but all of them, even her family, the amount of shit, we’ve put her through is substantial, you know? It would be enough to make most people cynical. But Buffy was never like that. She always understood. And even when she didn’t, she forgave us. Because she was better than all of us. And did I mention, tough?” 

 

Spike makes a sound in his throat and nods a bit. 

 

“So don’t go around thinking that you have somehow defiled her “spiritual existence,” because you haven’t. She’s as strong as ever, and what’s more, she’s looking out for you. I think it’s safe to say, she’s definitely not holding any grudges. And because Buffy is who she is, she’ll even find a way to forgive Giles because he is the only one who needs forgiving.” 

 

Spike bows his head. They sit quietly again for a while.

 

Then Spike clears his throat. “Bloody hell,” he whispers. “She really came for me.” 

 

“She really did. And so did Angel in a matter of speaking.”

 

“Angel?”

 

“Yeah, later that same night, he called me. Said he wanted me to help him find you. Told me how the two of you were alive and how you’d been working and living together for years and…. Shit! I forgot to call him! He was really worried about you.”

 

“Angel was worried about me?”

 

“Of course, I was, Spike.”

 

Spike and Xander both jump in their seats and at least one of them makes a high-pitched, startled squeak.

 

Angel is standing outside on the porch. The door is ajar, and of course, he doesn’t come in.

 

“I waited a couple of weeks for a word from you after you took off. And when I didn’t hear from you, I began looking for you. I visited every bar I could think of. No luck. I searched the poetry clubs. Yes, I know you go there too and don’t try and deny it. Still, no luck. When I finally called Giles to ask for his help, you’d been gone for a couple of months. But what Giles told me just didn’t feel right. So I called Xander because I knew he was spending time in Europe and asked him to help me.”

 

As Angel talks, Xander feels his face turning hot and red. Even with the Buffy dream, and Angel’s subsequent call that same night, he hadn’t rushed to Spike’s imminent rescue. Now, of course, he knows that his know-it-all attitude once again has made him make all the wrong calls. That seems to be one of his special traits. Why the hell didn’t he go to Giles’s home straight away, looking for Spike? All right, so he had asked Giles about Spike, but he’d believed what Giles had told him. Despite Dream Buffy’s warnings not to do so. And when he’d finally decided to go take a look around Giles’s property, it wasn’t even like he was looking for Spike in particular that morning. Christ, he is such a moron at times. It’s a wonder, Spike hasn’t kicked his butt already. 

 

But Spike isn’t looking at him at all. Instead, he is staring at Angel as if the other vampire has suddenly grown two heads.

 

Xander turns to Angel. “Come in, Angel,” he says. As Angel enters, Xander gets up. “Sit down. I’ll go grab us something to drink. Beer or blood?” 

 

“Umm… I haven’t really eaten anything today. Blood, thanks.”

 

“Beer for me, Xander. Or something stronger, if you have it.”

 

Xander goes out into his small kitchen, and gets two ice-cold bears from the fridge. He hasn’t got anything stronger but makes a mental note to go buy some whiskey for Spike. He heats up a mug of blood for Deadboy. He clutches the beers to his chest and carries the mug in one hand and a bag of Dooritos in the other and returns to the living room. 

 

Spike’s has gotten up from the floor and is now leaning back in the room’s single armchair and Angel’s perched stiffly on the couch. Xander places the mug of blood in front of Angel and throws one of the beer cans to Spike. Then he sits down next to Angel on the opposite side of the couch. For a while, they just sit silently and sip at their beverages. Then Angel clears his throat. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to call to tell you I was coming. I didn’t really think much actually. I just jumped into my car as soon as I’d heard that Spike’d been found. Willow told me,” he explains at Xander’s questioning look. 

 

“I had to stop at a motel to get out of the sun and I forgot to bring my cell phone.”

 

Spike snorts faintly and Xander asks, “So Willow gave you my address?”

 

“Yes. And she told me about Spike and…Fuck, I just…” 

 

Angel’s knuckles turn white and Xander is kinda impressed with the strength of his innocent Target mug. As if Angel can read his mind, he loosens the grip and places the mug carefully back on the table. Neither of them looks at Spike.

 

An awkward uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Then abruptly Angel stands up and nearly tips both table and couch over backwards, Xander still in it and all. “Hey,” Xander exclaims but stops as he watches Angel stride over to where Spike is sitting, now looking for all the world like a deer caught in head lights.

 

“Look, Spike I’m done with our stupid games of fighting and bickering. You’re my friend. My best friend. My only friend! I have been so worried about you and I just…” 

 

Spike opens his mouth but nothing comes out of his mouth. But then Angel bends down and Spike is engulfed in a bear hug. Angel holds him tightly, rocking to and fro. For a brief second, Spike’s panicked eyes meet Xander’s. Spike frowns as if looking for something in Xander’s face. Then he huffs out a breath and allows himself to sink into Angel’s embrace completely. His lets his head fall forward and onto Angel’s shoulder. 

 

It’s a nice hug. Probably the best, Spike’s ever had. And definitely the first truly tender touch he’s felt from anyone in a long, long time and he knows that he is tearing up a bit because of it, but he can’t stop it. He doesn’t really want to, either. Instead, he clings harder to Angel’s broad frame burying his face deeper into the clean-smelling fabric of Angel’s shirt.

 

Xander gets up quietly and leaves the room. Outside, in the small hallway, he grabs his car keys from the hook on the wall and gets his wallet from out of his coat pocket. Time to give the vampires some privacy. And to go buy that whiskey.

 

 

Part 22

 

It’s been almost two months since Angel arrived. And two months since he stayed. 

 

Xander’s house is now what seems to be permanently inhabited by himself and two fangy demons. It’s not like the three of them ever sat down and agreed to live like this, but it has worked out surprisingly fine. Angel pays for gas, water, and electricity and Xander brings home the chow, both the liquid and the regular kind. The three of them don’t get into fights which is nice. Granted, they don’t talk a lot and certainly don’t laugh a lot either and sometimes it’s perhaps a bit too hushed inside the house. But then one of them will turn on the TV or start playing a video game or turn on some music. And the other two will graciously accept it. Or leave for a walk along the beach if weather and time permits it. 

 

Xander works as a freelance handyman just like he did in Europe. People seem to like his work and he in turn likes to be able to set his own rules and hours. His personal house renovation is coming along nicely too. Angel’s hands are not entirely useless and he helps Xander doing some of he work. Spike’s hasn’t got the talent nor the patience for handyman work, but he’s pretty good at cooking and he straightens things up every once in a while and doesn’t seem to mind vacuum cleaning and such. Angel never eats any of Spike’s homemade meals no matter how much Xander urges him to try them out because they are really that good, but the three of them sit down together at dinnertime and that’s surprisingly nice, too. 

 

There is still a bit of tiptoeing around Spike. Xander is aware that Spike doesn’t really like it. He’s always hated being, what’s he call it? Mollycodled. But it’s hard not to give him the extra space and silence because he’s not really the Spike of the old days yet. He’s got the biggest bedroom in the house. It had been the only one fully equipped when Xander and Spike arrived here and it wouldn’t have felt right to let Spike sleep on the old couch or on the floor back then. Angel sleeps in the closet and Xander in the newly renovated guestroom. It’s alright. 

 

The vampires have changed their normal habits a bit. They get up late in the morning instead of late in the afternoon and they go to bed not too long after midnight instead of dawn. Both of them like to just sit and watch the glittering ocean during the afternoons. Xander has installed necrotinted windows after Angel told him about the product. Angel ordered some via Harmony of all people. When Xander returns from work, that’s where he usually finds them. Looking out at the ocean. He brings a beer for all of them and they sit and enjoy the taste, the view and the quiet. It’s very relaxing. Sometimes, they’ll be reading or – in Spike’s case – scribbling away in a small notebook. 

 

It’s Saturday and Xander sits in the kitchen drinking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper. It’s a cloudy day and the local forecast promises rain. Angel is still asleep but he can hear that Spike is up and about. Taking a shower, it seems. As he hears the sound of bare feet on the kitchen floor tiles, he turns his head. 

 

“Morning. You’re up early.”

 

“Yeah, was lying awake most night. Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking. Listen. I’ll be off for a couple of days. I’ve got some business needs attention.”

 

“Really? Where are you headed?”

 

Spike scratches his bare chest. The light from outside is reflected on the white walls and gives him a bright glow. He has filled out since England and is back to looking… well, good, actually. He is wearing his jeans and nothing else. Xander notices the golden trail of hairs leading down to… well, Spike’s cock which shouldn’t be all that interesting but Xander is admittedly not entirely straight because it sort of is. He looks up, and Spike is staring at him, head tilted with narrowed eyes and a sort of a smirk and Xander’s face burns. 

 

“Personal business,” Spike replies, and offers no more.

 

“Okay. But you’re gonna come back here, right?”

 

“Yeah. If you’ll have me.” 

 

There’s that smirk on Spike’s face again, this time a real one and there is a kind of teasing tone to the sound of his voice and both things are good to see again. Of course, right now, it’s embarrassing which Spike clearly knows. Xander doesn’t even know if Spike is completely straight. He was always pretty much oozing sex regardless of gender and usual preferences, and Xander has noticed how Angel and Spike have something going on. Mutual attraction that neither wants to admit. 

 

Years ago, he’d have laughed at the idea, but things have changed. He is pretty sure Angel wouldn’t say no to Spike, should he ask. And Spike’d wouldn’t turn down Angel in a million years. It is interesting and frustrating having these two guys walking around day in and day out, lusting after each other. Sure, everyone has sexual needs but Xander knows that vampires’ urges aren’t exactly lightweight. That is if those old watchers’ diaries are anything to go by. As for himself, well, he is just about ready to burst and jerks off whenever he can, which isn’t often because he’ll be damned to do it at home with two humanoid bloodhounds around. And doing it in his customers’ private homes is just too fucking premature. Not to mention illegal. And gross. So, he can count on one hand when he’s had a chance to get off these past months. Spike’s skin looks very smooth in the clear morning light.

 

He clears his throat. “Of course, we’ll have you back. You know that. But can we reach you somehow? You know how Angel’ll worry if you don’t…

 

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow the latest. But as I said, it’s personal.”

 

“But will you bring a mobile? We need to be able to get in touch with you.” 

 

“Yes, nommy but don’t try and call me! Like I said, I’ll be back day after tomorrow. I promise.” Spike rolls his eyes but Xander can see he’s looking smugly pleased. He watches as Spike saunters over to the fridge, heats up a mug of blood and leaves the room, mug in hand. Still smirking and walking with a confidence like only Spike can. 

 

Xander snorts and sits back down with his paper. He doesn’t read any of the words. Spike has not been out on his own except from a few walks along the beach since they came here and now he suddenly wants to leave all by himself? And he doesn’t want to say where he’s going which seems unfair all things considered. It is all good and fine for a grown up man and definitely for a vampire, but it’s very sudden. And Angel is going to kill him if he doesn’t come back again. Probably going to kill Xander too. No, they need to know where Spike will be and Xander folds the paper and moves to get up when there is a loud thump from inside of Spike’s room. The door rattles and so do the windows as if the house is hit by a small bomb and there is a chemical tinge of something in the air. Xander runs towards the bedroom shouting Spike’s name and nearly crashes into Angel who is coming from the opposite direction. They stare at each other for a second both uncertain if it will be alright to bust in the door.

 

“Spike,” Angel shouts. “Are you alright?” 

 

When there is no answer, Xander grabs the door handle and yanks it down hard but the door is locked. Angel growls and the next minute, the door or rather, pieces of it, lies broken on the floor. They rush into the room just as something right in front of them sort of winks out with an oddly reversed sound of a buzz. 

 

“Fuck!” Angel shouts. “He’s been taken! If Giles is behind this, I’ll rip his fucking head off!”

 

“Angel,” Xander says. “Look, he left us a note.”

 

“He what?” Angel says turning around to look at Xander with a frown. 

 

“Here,” Xander says and hands Angel a piece of paper which has been pinned to the wall next to Spike’s bed. 

 

“Angel and Xander,  
I’m going away for a couple of days. Willow knows where I will be and has agreed to help me mojo my way out and back again, so no worries. If I’m not back by Monday, call her. But until then, leave me alone!  
Spike  
PS. While I’m gone, go out, get pissed, and get laid. You need it. Both of you!”

 

“That little idiot,” Angel snarls. 

 

Xander thinks of Spike’s Big Bad sauntering this morning. His smirk. And he shakes his head.

 

“No. No, he isn’t. Sure, he should have told us that he was going to leave today, not to mention how, but I mean, come on. He’s with Willow who is like the best there is at witchcraft. And at battling evil. And he’s finally doing something else besides sitting around here all day and night and - no offense - brood. Whatever it is he’s doing, I think it’s gonna be good for him. I mean, imagine the courage it’s taken him to do something like this. Just leave without you and me as backup? Not one month ago, he was still having nightmares or crying right here next to you and me. I think what’s happening is we’re getting Spike back. And I’d like to see him because I’ve missed him! I’m gonna go shop some new clothes and get a haircut. And you and me, pal? We’re gonna go dancing!” 

 

“I don’t dance.”

 

“Tonight, you do.”

 

 

Part 23

 

“Are you sure about this, Spike?”

 

“Never been more sure of anything in my life, Red. I need to go in there and face him before I can go on unliving. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

 

“You won’t… kill him, will you? Because I can’t let you do that. I know you’re entitled to… justice, but we need him.”

 

“No, I’m not planning on hurting him. Much.” He smiles a bit at her, hoping she will know the truth of it. “And I’m not looking for vengeance. I’m just looking for a way to move on from here.”

 

Willow frowns her pretty forehead. Soon, more permanent lines will settle. They will make her look a little less young but will also help her get a little more respect from her peers. Not that she need it. Most of them are sensibly afraid of her vast magical powers. 

 

“Knock on the door, when you want out,” she says and he nods and swallows. She presses the intercom set on the door. “Giles, it’s me,” she says. “You’ve got a visitor. Alright?” There is an affirmative answer. Willow says a small incantation and the door opens up to the cell.

 

Rupert Giles is in the corner of the room sitting on a small cot. He is wearing a white pajamas of the kind you usually see in mental wards in a “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest” style. He’s not in any kind of bonds and while it takes some effort on Spike’s part to not show his discomfort, he strides inside.

 

“’Hello, Rupert.”

 

“Spike. Come to kill me? I have been rather expecting it.”

 

“If I’d wanted you dead, I’d let you hang in that rope, wouldn’t I?” ¨

 

“Yes, you would. But you were… weakened. Xander was with you and I suppose the two of you acted out on pure reflex when you saved my life. Be that as it may, I’ve been here long enough to realize that what happened was not right. I expect you have as well.” 

 

“Yeah, I might have reached that conclusion a bit earlier than you. But I’m not here to hear how you feel about what happened.”

 

He vamps out and quickly moves and grabs Giles by the shoulders, hauls him upright and smashes him into the brick wall. Not hard enough to break bones, but hard enough to leave bruises. 

 

“What you have to say and how you feel about it is of no bloody concern to me, Rupert. What I care about is for me to be able to go back living the unlife I deserve. All I’ve ever done since I won back my soul is staying on the right path. Doing good deeds. Helping the sodding helpless. I’m not a saint, but I’m not evil. I help fighting the good cause, not because Buffy wanted me to. I do it for my own sake. Made that decision years ago right after Sunnydale. I’m a good man. I do what’s right. ` 

 

"You on the other hand is a whole different story, innit I mean, what motivates someone like you, Rupert? I’ve been thinking about that. An awful lot in fact, while you kept me prisoner and bloody well tortured and molested me. And I think I’ve got the answer. It’s to do with power. Certainly not with the goodness of your heart because I’ve looked inside that heart of yours and it’s as dead and rotten as a carcass in a sewer. I don’t see anything good in you, Rupert. I just see a man acting on expectations, proper upbringing and a need for control. Oh, I’m not saying you didn’t care about Buffy. Even soulless beings can care as I should know. But I’ve seen you and I know excactly who and what you are.

 

“But here is the thing. I don’t want you dead. Whatever your motivations, you helped Buffy kill a lot of nasty demons. Helped her save the world. And that’s what it’s all about, innit? Saving the world. 

 

“When I leave this cell, I never want to lay eyes on you again. You stay the bloody hell away from me and mine. If you so much as think of doing anything else, I will kill you. And it will not be a nice kill either. I will tear off your limbs one by one and gnaw at your face. I will chew you in and spit you out. Do you hear me?”

 

Giles doesn’t answer but his mouth opens and for the first time in Spike’s life, he sees fear in Giles’s eyes. Fascinated he watches as Giles manages to nod in a single stiff jerky motion. He gives him one last shove against the wall and releases him. 

 

“Sit,” he commands.

 

“So here is the thing. You pull yourself together and go out and start helping the council people again. They need you. Whether they will trust you is up to you and I don’t care as long as you do what’s right. You will dedicate the rest of your life to the cause again. Buffy believed in it and was prepared to die for it, which she did. But she’s not the first good person, nor the first true hero to die a meaningless death. There will always be casualties and I’ve known my share. It’s how it is and you just have to accept that. Get a move on and start working again. Tell them that you’ll help them from inside this cell until they are ready to let you out of here. 

 

“And one last thing. I won’t bite you. I don’t fancy rotting food.” 

 

 

Part 24

 

“Spike! You’re back already!” 

 

“That I am, pet. Told you I wouldn’t be gone long. And the ponce?”

 

“He is in the bathroom. We’re on our way out to – well, if not to get laid, then to get wasted. You wanna come too? And where were you? Are you okay?” 

 

Spike smiles and nods. 

 

“I’m fine. It’s a lovely evening, innit? Perfect, really.” 

 

He gazes out over the sea. There’s an almost otherworldly shine to the calm ocean. Moonlight is reflected in the shallow waves and stars wink from a black sky.

 

“Fancy a swim?

 

“A swim? But I just,” and Xander looks down at his clothes. They are nothing fancy, but he’s wearing a brand new set of jeans, a nice button down shirt, freshly ironed, and some pretty nifty leather shoes. He’s dressed for a night out. But Spike’s eyes are glittering and a swim in the ocean sounds like fun. 

 

“Sure, why the hell not? I can always take a shower again,” he smiles. Angel has been in the bathroom for nearly an hour which is a long time for a guy who doesn’t have to piss and can’t use a mirror. But the two of them have felt pretty much like giddy teenage boys going out on their first date all day long, already a little high on expectations. Spike has always had the ability to see right to the core of things. They really do need to get rid of some of those sexual frustrations.

 

“The cleaner, the better,” Spike says and curls his tongue in a way that is completely shocking because it’s so damn sexy. Xander’s cock jumps in his pants and he shifts uneasily.

 

“Tonight I think I fancy an orgy. I brought booze already, so there’s no need to go out to get laid,” Spike says.

 

“Whoa! What do you mean, I…” But before Xander finishes his stuttering response, Spike’s grabbed him with both hands and pulled him in for a kiss. And what a kiss! Spike’s lips are soft but demanding and his cool tongue is amazing. Xander actually swoons and where the hell did that come from? 

 

“Oh.” He gasps as Spike pulls away. Spike laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. 

 

“I brought plenty of lube, as well.” 

 

Xander’s heart is pounding. Lube? Does that mean that he’s going to lose his virginity? A second time? Judging from that kiss, it’ll be a helluva lot interesting, that’s for sure. 

 

When Angel exits from the bathroom looking dapper, he’s tackled by Spike as well. Spike pushes him into the wall. 

 

“You and me and the boy. No clothes, let’s go for a swim. Now.”

 

Xander is still a bit breathless but he can’t help laughing at Angel’s totally perplexed expression. Who can blame him for not knowing what to think right now. This is insane. And exhilarating. And fuck, so damn hot. Angel glances over at Xander and frowns. Then he makes a hungry sound, grabs Spike, quickly turns them around and attacks Spike’s mouth with his own, while holding Spike pressed against the wall. 

 

“Oh, god, yes!” Spike gasps as soon as his mouth is free. “Xander. Off with those clothes. Let’s go out and have some fun!”

 

When Xander wakes up the following morning, he’s lying in a heap of naked vampire limbs and is very much deflowered. He’s even tried a thing or two to do with flowers himself this night and that was pretty good, too. 

 

It’s been amazing, really. Craziest night of his life. He doesn’t even feel like the third wheel because both vampires seem to crave his body heat and cuddle close to him in a very pleasant way. 

 

Last night had definitely been fun. Rolling around in the sand, swimming in the freaking cold Pacific Ocean. Chasing each other around like maniacs, whooping like school boys. And then tumbling inside, kissing, showering, laughing, and groping. Getting drunk but not too much. 

 

Just pure and simple goofing around for the first time in forever. And being nice to each other. Getting off, yes but also almost making love, really. At times, it had been sort of beautiful. And yes, he’s a bit gay, no doubt. 

 

And now he needs to pee. Which reminds him of his humanity. Which reminds him that he doesn’t fit into a polyamorous gay love triangle with two immortal demons. At some point, they will want to dump him. Probably tell him that they are leaving as soon as they have had a chance to talk it all through without him in the house. He has been watching them for months, after all. He has seen how they have cared for each other a lot more than they would willingly admit. Has suspected that they wanted each other. He has never noticed the same interest in him. Didn’t expect it at all. He sighs. He wants the two of them to be happy. They are good guys. And it is nice seeing Spike smile and be all sexy again. And fuck, but he is sexy. And Angel has this surprisingly soft skin and is not too shabby looking either. Too bad, it isn’t meant to be. Still, he will remember this night as the best of his life.

 

And now he really really needs to pee and he extricates himself carefully and heads for the bathroom. He’s a little wistful as he does his business and washes his hands. It’s still pretty early in the morning and he doesn’t really want to get up just now. His mouth tastes bad from drinking too much last night so he brushes his teeth quickly and then snugs back inside the dark bedroom for a little more rest between Angel and Spike’s bodies. 

 

Extra carefully he climbs back into bed. He manages to lay down without waking either one of them and lies completely still, trying not to breathe too loud. He doesn’t want to break the spell of last night’s comradeship and well, mindblowing sex.

 

“Mmm, you’re back. You have to stay here and keep us warm, you know,” Spike’s deep voice rumbles close to his ear. 

 

“Last night was bloody marvelous, pet. You’re delicious.” 

 

Soft lips press against the shell of his ear. He can’t help but smile stupidly. Then a big hand lands on his left thigh. 

 

“Yeah, that was some night. We need a bigger bed, though. I’ll pay.” And Angel snuggles closer as well and promptly falls back to sleep judging from his lack of breathing. 

 

Well, what do you know? Maybe Xander really is meant to live in a polyamorous gay relationship with two vampires, after all. 

 

He can live with that.

 

 

The end.


End file.
